Welcome to Wool's Orphanage
by forTheLoveOfHades
Summary: Harry is somehow transported back to the 1930's during an electric storm. He wakes up to find himself in Wool's Orphanage where Tom Riddle lives. What will he do? Can he change the past for a better future? No romance. Reviews are much appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

**_Yes, it's a Harry goes back in time story. But, its kind of different. Also, Harry is much more sarcastic and "glass half -empty" sort of person_**

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me...except, well... this story...**

**Chapter 1**

Harry Potter was a normal person in every sense. He was healthy, wealthy and was loved by all. Yet, he still was unhappy. He hated his job, the people at work, the weather, the news, literally anything that came to mind. His friends had already broken ties with him because of his attitude. He was turning into a grumpy man who hated life.

After the end of the wizarding war, instead of everything coming together at last, it had all fallen apart. Harry left his girlfriend because he felt suffocated by her. He left the Weasleys because after dumping their sister, he was Undesirable Number 1 in their house. Probably. He never could go there or to the Grangers because they reminded him too much of the past; a past that he was trying to forget. He was sick of wars and battles. He was sick of all the lives lost because of one man's idiotic, bloody egotistical, cruel, prejudiced notions. He was sick of all the barbarians that had followed him for blood, or glory or power.

To forget, he immersed himself into his work, doing his duty as an Auror, but a few years later, when all the Death Eaters were behind bars, the Ministry set him up again as their poster boy. He did not get any useful cases, and by the end of it, he was forced to work behind a desk, like a secretary. The new Minister had the audacity to claim that they couldn't risk the Wizarding World's Savior's life everyday on the field because he was too precious. Harry had felt like socking that man in the face. But he didn't. Just satisfied himself with muttering curses against the Minister and the rest of the Ministry, under his breath.

It all changed one stormy night in October. It was late Friday evening when he came back from work. He went over to the counter where he kept his stash of firewhisky and generously poured himself a glass. Lightning and thunder crashed overhead. It looked like one the worst storms in a decade. He could hear the screaming wind from inside his house. It sounded like someone was being tortured. The rain pelted harshly against the window panes as the lightning flashed over and over again.

He rubbed his hand over his neck, feeling tired. Hours of poring over the tedious paperwork had given him a stiff neck. He felt quite like an old man, even though he was only twenty-five. After finishing his drink, he draped himself over his couch, not bothering to change or even take off his shoes and he laid his head back on the arm of the couch to rest. _For five minutes_, he thought to himself. _I will wake up in five minutes_.

And he fell deeply asleep.

He was pleasantly floating about in the darkness, feeling very nice and cozy. Suddenly he could hear a voice intruding on his peaceful dreams.

"Get...late….breakfast…."

He furrowed his brow, trying to tell the annoying voice to stop disturbing him. He just wanted to go back to that pleasant darkness once more. But the voice was relentless. It shook him by the shoulder, jerking his thoughts towards the present.

"Get up! Do you want Ms. Cole to refuse you breakfast?" it shouted, grating on his nerves.

He blinked his eyes blearily, trying to open his dry mouth to give the annoying voice a piece of his mind. As his eyes focused on the image in front of him, he realized that it vaguely resembled a child. A house-elf perhaps? He blinked his eyes again, trying to dispel his sleepiness. The annoying voice intruded his thoughts again.

"At last! I thought that you were never getting up."

The voice came from the small being. He looked at it again in annoyance and nearly gasped out loud. Maybe he did gasp out loud. His brain was too fuzzy to care.

It _was_ a child. He did not have any children the last time he checked, right? Unless he had a child in the last ten minutes, he was pretty sure that this one was not his. Hopefully. But that brought him to the troubling fact. Where _was_ he? He looked around himself. Wasn't he sleeping on his couch in his room? How was he suddenly here, on a cot-like bed, covered with old cotton sheets that looked like it hadn't been washed in the last decade? The child chose that moment to give him a poke on his shoulder.

"Hey, if you are not coming down for breakfast, then I am going. You can just sit there and starve." He then ambled out the door. Harry just sat on the bed, thinking over everything. Were children always this rude? Especially to someone who was clearly a decade older than them? And did that kid actually say something about Ms. Cole? That name sounded extremely familiar for some reason, like someone he remembered but couldn't recall from his childhood.

He sighed out loud and looked around his "_room"_. It wasn't very impressive, with a drab curtain covering the window and a wardrobe at one end. Another cot was right beside his. It was very small. Probably the child's, he thought to himself. He slowly eased himself out of his bed, and was surprised when the floor looked so near. Did he grow shorter while he was sleeping? And why were his feet so small? And his hands? And why was he wearing striped pajamas? He suddenly had a nauseous feeling. He ran towards the mirror on the wardrobe. Yes, he was right to feel nauseous, because staring right back was a boy, no older than 9 years old. _He was a child!_

Suddenly, he felt like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs, and the room began to spin when the floor loomed lazily towards him as he succumbed to the welcoming darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Tom Riddle arrives! Watch out! (Sorry for any mistakes cause this wasn't beta'd. If you find any, just tell me and i'll correct it as soon as I can.)**

***Funny Fact: Fred and George were born on April Fool's Day... That should explain their mischievous acts :)**

Chapter 2

Harry woke up very slowly. His head felt like there was a herd of giants in there, stomping around with their clubs, making as much noise as possible. Why ever would giants choose his head as their home, he didn't know. He wondered what just happened when more voices interrupting his fuzziness; voices that seemed to be increasing in volume by the second.

"Get up, boy! Do you think I have all day to stay here and look after one child?"

Harry frowned. That voice didn't sound like the previous boy's. This was clearly a woman, and a rude one at that. He opened his eyes to see himself lying prone on the floor. The _very, dirty_ floor. Ugh! He would have to clean himself at least 3 times to get rid of all the filth. There was even one patch on the floor that looked like it had once been blood. He closed his eyes. He didn't want to know.

The woman, who was stooping down towards him, shook his shoulder."Are you alright, boy?" she asked, her voice sounding harsh and annoyed, contradicting with her statement. He looked at her properly, and his eyes widened in recognition. Now he remembered her. Cole! He remembered seeing the plump lady in Dumbledore's memories; she was the one who loved gin; the matron in Riddle's orphanage. What was she doing here? And for that matter, what was _he _doing here too?

"yeah, I'm fine," he replied when he saw that she was still waiting for an answer.

"Good," she conceded. "Now come downstairs and eat your breakfast. I will give you a little leeway considering that you just got here." She got up and left, expecting him to follow.

The other boy, that had woken him up before was standing near the door, nervously. "I came upstairs to call you when I saw that you weren't behind me," he remarked. "I've never seen anyone faint," he remarked. "And you just dropped like a stone, onto the floor. So, I went and called Ms. Cole for help."

_At least he cared enough to call someone, _Harry thought to himself. _He didn't let me drool all over the floor._

"Thanks," he told the boy. "I did not catch your name, actually." He smiled apologetically.

"That's because I didn't tell you," replied the boy with a cheeky grin. "Ms Cole found you half-dead yesterday night in the rain, on the doorstep and took you in. I don't even think you even knew what was happening around you. You fell asleep straight afterwards. Ms. Cole told me to wake you up in the morning, though. But you seem alright. I'm Gregory. Welcome to Wool's Orphanage." He said this all in one breath as he extended his hand towards Harry, to help him get up off the floor.

"I'm Harry," he replied. He liked this kid, as much as his voice bothered him. So, he appeared here last night? How?And Wool's Orphanage…so, this was the exact same orphanage that Riddle lived in once?

"Come on," Gregory said. "Let's go downstairs. We have oatmeal today."

Harry quickly changed into the uniform that everyone wore, when Gregory told him to and followed him out of the room and down the stairs The whole place had a dreary depressing feel to it, adding to his already morose mood. What was he doing here? How did he transport himself to Riddle's old orphanage? As far as he knew, it was impossible to time travel for more than 24 hours. And as far as he knew, Wool's orphanage was destroyed nearly 40 years ago. Was it possible that he traveled nearly 40 years to the past? Maybe more? And why was he a _child?_ He was twenty-five for Merlin's sake! The only conclusion was, what he had gleaned from the few Muggle movies he watched at the Dursley's; where the Muggle protagonist is transported to different places or times because of freak electric storms. Apparently electricity was a big thing in the Muggle world. There _was_ a lightning storm last night. A bad one at that. Could that be the reason that he apparently traveled back in time? But again, why would he shrink to a kid? Nothing made sense. Maybe, this was a dream and he was probably asleep back home. However, he could do nothing but watch and wait. Bide his time until he understood what in Merlin's name was happening or wake up, whichever happened first.

As soon as he came to that conclusion, he felt an utter calm wash over him. Nobody knew who he was here. He was not Harry Potter, the Boy-who-lived, or Wizarding World's Savior, or the horrible boyfriend and horrible friend that he was before. He did not have to go to his tedious work every morning to face ungrateful people who coddled him and took him for granted. He was free to do as he wished. His time and his life were his to live, at least in his dream.

Here, he was just another orphan boy who apparently was dumped at the orphanage, yesterday; who roomed with Gregory, another one of the many children that nobody cared about. Here, he was _just _Harry. This epiphany sent him soaring into ecstasy. He was _free at last._

He could never imagine being free. When he was at the Dursley's he had chores to complete and he lived more like a house-elf that a person. And the house-elf represented the exact opposite of freedom. He thought that he would finally gain his freedom when he went to Hogwarts, but there, an even heavier burden was dumped on his shoulders. He was destined to defeat the greatest Dark Lord in history, or die instead. Amazing destiny! Right? Wrong! Even after the war, when everyone sighed with relief, he could not. In a world without Voldemort, the others could live and do as they please, but not him. He was the Chosen One who was now the Wizarding World's Hero. He had to be the one to inspire people. And he could not do anything that would ruin this image. Everyone looked up at him, looked to him for help in their littlest things. And then, he got "promoted" to a position behind the desk, where he was not only mentally but also nearly physically restrained. So, this concept of independence was rather chilling and bizarre for him.

He had no one to answer to now. Nobody expected him to save their day.

This revelation made him so happy that he felt like skipping and dancing around. He did skip down the steps, the rest of the way, feeling entirely right doing so. He was a child. He was supposed to skip.

_I am free_, he sang to himself. He could do anything he _pleased,_ he could go anywhere he _pleased_, he...- felt like an utter idiot, because staring at him from across the room, was Tom Riddle.

Merlin! He had entirely forgotten about Riddle. His pleasant daydreams were abruptly brought back to the ground with just one look from his arch-enemy; an enemy who was didn't look more than 9 years old and was currently staring at him.

_Maybe this is a dream,_ he thought. Seriously, if he had to go back in time, why would he go back to the exact time that Tom Riddle lived here, for Merlin's sake! This was probably fate messing with his head. He already knew that fate hated him; just look at all the things that happened in his life. This was just another one of it. Even if this was a dream, couldn't he have one without Riddle in it, ruining everything? _If this is a dream, then maybe if I close my eyes and count to ten, he will disappear. _He did, but when he opened his eyes, Riddle was still there, staring at him. _This isn't a dream, is it?…._ he thought dismally.

_Oh well, Riddle can just go and &*#%$#*…_.he thought, several words that were probably not even invented yet, and should never have been combined, running through his mind. _I am not going to let him ruin my new-found freedom._ He sniffed haughtily and turned up his nose pointedly at Riddle, turning his back towards him as he walked towards the line-up for breakfast. He got a dollop of some mushy, multicolored substance that looked like someone stepped on it, with muddy shoes. _And Gregory said that this was oatmeal!_

Holding his tray of inedible looking….thing, he looked for Gregory, the only person he knew in this strange world. But he was nowhere to be seen. So, he just sat at an empty table and morosely squished about this suspicious substance with his fork, trying to build up the courage to take the first bite.

"You are sitting in my seat, " a voice said, interrupting his musings.

He looked up to see his second-most hated face looming up at him; the face of young Tom Riddle.

**I'm pretty sure that you can guess who has his most hated face!**

******__****_Regarding " &*#%$#*" : _**I can assure you that Harry is very inventive and has a wide variety of available words in his vocabulary, so you can imagine what he would be saying**_. I would give recommendations but I don't think that they would be fit to be seen in public. Or private, to be honest. _**


	3. Chapter 3

**_'If Only'_ Fact: JKR originally planned to kill Arthur Weasley in Order of the Phoenix, but instead swapped him for Sirius Black.. WHY!**

**Chapter 3**

Out of all the children in the entire orphanage, did Riddle _have_ to come to him? What was it about him that attracted murdering psychopaths and bullies? Did he have a sign on his forehead saying that "_crazy psychos, come get me!"_

Well, he was _not_ going to be pushed about by this pathetic excuse for a Dark Lord, who was not even a Dark Lord now. "What?" he asked rudely.

"I said, that you are sitting in my seat," said the icy voice of Tom Riddle.

Harry twisted around to look at the chair that he was sitting in. "Doesn't have your name on it," he replied cheekily.

"Did the other kids not tell you?" asked Riddle, his eyebrows rising in mock astonishment. "This is _my _seat, no one else's. If you are clever, then you will know to not cross me, shrimp. Bad things happen to people who irritate me," he continued in an ominous tone.

_Okay…_ Harry thought. Maybe he was wrong. This kid acted like a Dark lord already. And he was no _shrimp!_ He just had a small frame, that's all. He narrowed his eyes. No way was he going to be bullied by this "wannabe" Dark Lord. He had faced the real thing and come out alive.

"Then it's a good thing that I am not very clever ," he countered, going back to his sad excuse of a breakfast.

Riddle gaped at him for a second as if astonished that someone would actually contradict him.

Seriously, did this kid already have minions obeying his every word that he was surprised to find one who didn't?

"What's your name?" ordered Riddle, staring at Harry.

Harry stared him right back in the eye, trying not to show how he was a tiny bit intimidated. "Harry," he replied. There was no harm in giving him that name, right? Also, Harry was having second thoughts about antagonizing Riddle. From all the memories, he remembered Riddle being quite proficient at controlling his accidental magic, enough to kill an animal. And he, Harry, had poorer control over his accidental magic and no wand. Not a good combination.

"Well, _Harry,_" emphasized Riddle, coming closer to his face. "You just got on my wrong side." He grinned nastily, "You better look out for snakes!" he whispered in his ear." If you are not careful, you might just get _bitten_."

Harry just sat there, trying not to bang his head onto the table. Great, now he had small Tom Riddle after his blood also. He really needed to keep his stupid mouth shut! From Riddle's parting line, he assumed that something was going to happen to him that involved snakes. Tom Riddle and snakes did not bring pleasant memories for him. Who knows what he had gotten himself into?

He really needed his wand back. After years of not really doing any offensive fighting, (desk jobs do that you), he had not felt the loss of his wand too much. But for his own safety, he needed one. However, he knew the chances of him getting one anytime soon were really low. For one, he didn't know how to get to Diagon Alley from the Orphanage. He was sure, that the streets would have changed during the last 70 years. Two, he was a child… in the middle of London. He had no means to defend himself. And lastly, he had not a Knut to his. Back in his time, he might have been the sole heir to the Potter and Black family vaults. Here, he was a poor orphan boy, who had Riddle-in-a-temper after him _again_. He rubbed his temples, his headache from the morning coming back.

Well, his only salvation would be if his accidental magic lashed out naturally, like it did for Aunt Marge. He spent some time daydreaming about Riddle bloating to the size of a balloon and floating far, far away.

He was harshly brought out of his daydreams by another _voice_. "Hey kid, are you done? I have to clean up the table."

It was a girl who looked about twenty something. _She probably helps out around here,_ he thought. He nodded and quickly got up, abandoning his untouched breakfast. The girl just shook her head and began cleaning up. "You'll feel hungry later on, believe me. You don't get lunch until midday," she advised.

Harry just nodded and walked away. He was used to going hungry, at the Dursleys and when they went Horcrux Hunting. Missing breakfast was nothing new.

He decided to go outside and scout his surroundings, months of Auror training kicking in at last. "_Always know your surroundings,"_ was the first rule they learned. He was a bit _small _now, for an average Auror, but he would have to make do.

As soon as he stepped out of the dark, dim entrance of the orphanage, the bright sunlight greeted him. He smiled. How the atmosphere changed with a little bit of light! He felt like he could empathize with plants, the way they turned to face the sun. He tilted his head up trying to soak up the sun, after hours of spending time inside the dark orphanage.

"Get out of the way!" something shouted behind him, and pushed him out the doorway before he could move. He lost his balance and fell as a boy ran past him, closely followed by someone behind him. He growled mentally. Were they stupid? Did they not see him in front of them? They just had to ask him politely, and he would have moved. He decided that he hated kids. He himself was not a child, mentally at least, so he was fine to dislike them. He slowly got up and dusted his ugly looking uniform. He heard a snort of laughter, and saw Tom Riddle staring at him from across the yard. He stiffened and walked straight on, ignoring the derisive look he was getting from Riddle.

He could see Gregory playing about in the yard. He headed for him, Greg , (Gregory was just too long) being the only person he knew in the entire place. As soon as Greg saw him, he waved him forward to his group of friends.  
"Harry!" he cried. He turned towards his friends. "Chaps, this is Harry. He is my new roommate. He just came in yesterday."

The other children looked at him. "He looks like he would fly away with the breeze," commented one snotty-nosed kid. Literally, he had snot running down his nose. Couldn't he wipe it at least?

And he was not so light to fly away with the breeze!...Was he? Nah!

"We are playing Hide and Seek," declared a pudgy boy, who reminded him of Dudley. "You can be the Seeker."

Thank Merlin! He would rather do the chasing than be chased around. And he excelled in "seeking'. After all the was the youngest seeker in a century. Just the meanings of 'seeker' were a little different.

But seriously, did they expect him to actually run around the playground trying to catch them? No, of course not. He was an Auror who was trained to catch Dark Wizards. He would have a game plan that would trap all of them into his net. He felt quite diabolical, and then slightly guilty because he had nearly 18 years more experience than these kids, not that they knew.

"Close your eyes, count to ten, then try to catch us," shouted Greg as he began to run away. So, Harry closed his eyes and began counting. (He was humouring the kids, of course. He was sure that with years of Auror training under his belt, he would be able to find 5 kids in a small building in minutes, if not seconds). However, when he opened his eyes, Tom Riddle was standing right in front of him, smiling, which was never a good thing in his opinion.


	4. Chapter 4

**More Tom Riddle!**

***Strange Fact: Dumbledore is an early modern English term for "bumblebee" Fits his personality and his vibrant wardrobe!**

**Chapter 4**

He nearly got the shock of his life to see the face of his arch-enemy so close to him.

"Did you want something?" he demanded, presenting his I-couldn't-care-less face; one that he had perfected over the last two years. It usually put off people who bothered him. But then, Riddle was anything but usual.

"I told you that you don't want to cross me, right?" replied Riddle, looking serious. "But, you are not like the others. So, I'll give you one more chance. Don't waste your time with them. They will only turn their back on you. You can be my friend." He smiled pleasantly to make his point.

Did Riddle actually think that after threatening him, he would willingly go anywhere near him? No, thank you.

"They are already my friends. And unlike you, they were _actually_ friendly to me the first time I saw them."

As soon as he said that, Riddle's face fell, like he had actually hoped that Harry would be friends with him.

Harry turned his back on him and continued with the rest of the game, forgetting about Riddle.

He couldn't believe how much fun it was to just let go of all your troubles and just play like a child. It was invigorating. The other kids and Harry finished playing and came into the orphanage laughing and talking excitedly. Harry felt like he belonged here. But as he passed the doorway, he saw Riddle staring at them, a look of utter longing on his face. As soon as he saw that look, Harry began to feel guilty. Stirrings of unease began in the pits of his stomach.

_What was he doing?_ he thought. No matter what Riddle might have grown up to be, he was just a child now. And he, Harry, who was technically an adult, was acting like a spoilt brat. Riddle was a boy who just wanted friends. And what had he done; he had turned down the only chance he might get to befriend Riddle. No matter how much Riddle might have tried to act like a bully, he was just a sad, lonely boy without friends. Harry suddenly felt utterly sorry for him. Harry felt like he could empathize with him. After all, his own childhood had been quite friendless because of Dudley.

He made up his mind. He wouldn't be like the kids that once bullied him.

So, instead of walking with his new friends to eat lunch, he headed to where Riddle was sitting, alone. As soon as came near, Riddle looked up at him.

"Do you want something?" he asked, quoting Harry's earlier phrase.

Harry sat down next to him. "I've rethought my decision, and I want to be friends with you," answered Harry.

Tom just looked at him stonily. "Too late. You had your chance and you proved that you are just like the others. I don't want you friendship, weakling."

Harry tried to squish down the hot burst of anger he felt at Riddle. Here he was, swallowing his pride and actually trying to befriend his enemy and Riddle had the audacity to turn him down? His face began to turn red with the effort. _No..., _he thought, trying to calm himself. _Riddle was still a boy. He was just a child. _Harry was better than that. He would show Riddle that he was the better man. In fact, all these thoughts began to form an idea in his head. He wondered _could he?_ If he really, really tried, could he change Riddle's attitude and thus the future, by befriending him? After all, in Dumbledore's memories, he remembered Riddle being out-casted, friendless and therefore had turned to the Dark Arts for comfort. Could he change the future that had happened? Could he change the millions of lives that were needlessly taken because of that war? This bombshell of an idea made Harry pause. He would, he decided. He would change the future or die trying. The only thing he was not sure about was if Riddle was naturally evil (which was entirely possible) or he was a result of his horrible environment. Also, Harry's saving-people-thing was too strong and he couldn't leave a young Tom Riddle to be bullied and corrupted if he had any say in it. Any problems with not changing had gone out the window the moment he had stepped into the orphanage. He just had to go forward with his new plan, damn the consequences.

"Well, that's too bad," he replied, smiling sweetly. "Because I have already decided that you are my friend."

Tom just stared at him, eyes wide. "I told you. I don't want you sitting next to me, or _anywhere_ near me for that matter. Go and have fun with your real friends," he bit out.

Harry just ignored him and sat next to him. As soon as he did, Tom slid out of his chair and walked to another table. All the way there, other children moved out of his way, as if he would smite any in his path. _Like when he became Voldemort, _Harry thought contemplatively. Well, he was here to change that. A sulking child was not going to stop him, even if that sulking child was _Little Voldemort_. So, he followed Riddle to the new empty table he was currently sitting at.

On the way there, he was stopped by Gregory. "Hey, what are you doing with that freak?" he asked. "He's dangerous. Things happen whenever he is there. Nobody could prove it, but everyone knows he did it. Everyone thinks that he even killed Billy's pet rabbit."

Harry eyed Gregory warily. And here he had thought that Greg was actually nice! What was with children and calling others freak?

_Freak. _It was a word small enough to fit into the mouth of a child, yet deep enough to carve the deepest of hurts. He knew. After all, that was one of the favorite names that the Dursleys liked to call him, especially Dudley. That and 'Boy'.

He looked at Gregory unemotionally. "You shouldn't judge people on what others say. Give him a chance. I'm sure that he is nice on the inside."

Gregory gave him a look that said '_your funeral' _and let go of him. Harry continued towards Riddle and sat down next to him.

"Well, you have a very interesting reputation amongst the others," he said, smiling up at Riddle.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Riddle stupefied. "I told you to not come near me." He got up and started walking away again. Harry followed.

"Really, they seem to think you are dangerous," he remarked, following Riddle as he walked. "Wonder what gave them that idea since you are only 8 years old."

"9!" corrected Riddle. "I'm 9 years old and believe me, if you keep following me around, you will see why they called me dangerous." His face had a nasty smile as his eyes eyes glinted menacingly.

"Oooh! Can I?" asked Harry, smiling beatifically. Riddle looked at him like he was mental and went to the line-up to get his lunch. "It seems very interesting. What sort of things do you do generally? I've never seen you actually hurt anyone. Did you actually kill someone's rabbit?" he asked in one breath.

There was no answer. Riddle was just looking straight ahead, pretending not to hear him.

_So, we are in the ignoring game,_ Harry mused speculatively. That could be counted as progress. He had talked to Riddle for more than five minutes without getting himself killed. A new record!

For the rest of the day, Harry followed Riddle relentlessly. If he couldn't get through Riddle with kindness, he would get through to him by just being annoying. Anywhere Riddle went, so did Harry. All the other kids in the orphanage began to stare. Most of them just shook their heads, feeling sorry for the new disillusioned kid who apparently was suicidal. Many of Harry's new friends tried to get him to sit with them, or talk to them, trying to save him from Riddle. They all knew how dangerous an activity such annoying Riddle, could be. He was after all, the freak in the orphanage.

Riddle for that matter took to ignoring Harry and pretending to go about his usual activities. Harry, on the other hand, chattered endlessly on the most mundane of topics, not deterred by the lack of reaction from Riddle. He talked about the weather, what he thought they were going to do tomorrow, what he liked to read, what he thought about the book that Riddle was reading, would Riddle show him something cool? Can he climb the roof? As more time went on and on, Harry's collection of topics began to diminish. He was also feeling quite dehydrated by the end of it. Finally, he decided to leave Riddle's side and get a drink of water when Riddle was completely immersed in his book.

Harry went to the girl who had cleaned his table before and asked her for a drink of water. As she went to the kitchen to get it, he was enveloped by Gregory and his friends. "Harry!" he called. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? We told you that, that freak Riddle is dangerous, right? We only want to look after you because you are new here and don't know how things work here, obviously."

Harry tried to squash his annoyance at hearing anyone called freak. He spoke calmly, "I think that he just needs a friend and also for people to stop calling him _freak_. He did not hurt me at all today, in any way." Harry was beginning to think that all the rumours about Riddle were just that. Rumours.

Riddle had plenty of chances to maim him, today. With the way Harry was behaving, Riddle would have been completely justified too. But Riddle just kept on sulking childishly. To be quite honest, he hadn't even looked at Harry, or talked to him, or in anyway, acknowledged that Harry was there. B_ut that's not the point,_ he thought. Riddle still hadn't hurt him in any way.

"You just wait. He never does it when you expect it," began Gregory ominously. "Always after, when everyone seems to have forgotten. Billy had called him a weirdo that day in school and the next day, his rabbit was dead, hung up from the rafters."

"Wait, so you are telling me that you go to school?" asked Harry. He had blanked out for the rest of Greg's speech as soon as he heard that he had to go to _school! _"So, every day at the orphanage is not like this? We don't just play all the time?"

"No, of course not," replied Gregory, looking scandalized. "We go to school during the weekdays. And did you not hear what I said. That freak will start hurting you, like he hurt us."

"School?" squeaked out Harry, sounding even more shocked, disregarding everything Greg was saying, his mind being filled with horrific images of Muggle schools. "We have to go to school…..?"

Harry did not have many fond memories of Muggle schools. He was chased, bullied or trodden upon in all Muggle schools, mainly due to Dudley. He also did not have more than the basic ideas about Math and Science, having given up on those subjects when he went to Hogwarts.

Suddenly, to Harry's frustration, before he could ask Greg more about this Muggle school, he heard shouting through the door in the kitchen.

"Who is that?" he asked, turning his head around in astonishment.

"That is probably Ms. Robertson," said Greg. "She is the assistant matron in the Orphanage. She is very harsh to anyone who doesn't do things the way she wants them to. It is better that you stay out of her way. She is easily angered. She also dislikes Gladys, saying that she is too stupid to work here."

There was an assistant matron? He did not remember anything like that from Dumbledore's memories. And she also sounded rather temperamental. He resolved to not get on her bad side.

And Gladys. So, that was the name of the girl who cleaned his table. It suited her.

"So, are you going to stay away from that freak?" continued Gregory.

"Nobody is a freak," said Harry curtly. "Not even Riddle. Stop calling him that."

"You know what?" said Greg, sounding quite peeved now that he saw that Harry was not listening to him. "You'll get what is to come and then you will come begging back to us, saying that you're sorry that you didn't listen." He and his friends turned around and walked away.

Gladys got back from the kitchen with a glass of water. She had tear tracks across her face. Harry felt a little sorry for her. It looked like Ms. Robertson was quite an evil character not daunted by the prospect of making someone cry.

He thanked her and quickly drank the water in one gulp. After giving the glass back to her, he slowly walked back to where Riddle had been sitting, contemplating his chances of surviving Muggle school in the 1930's. Also, this new person in the picture, Ms. Robertson, send shivers down his spine. She was an unknown factor. An unpredictable factor who could potentially ruin his wonderful plans.

He was still thinking about strategies to make his plans happen, when he arrived to where Riddle had been reading.

His eyes met empty space.

_Damn!_

Riddle had escaped.

The rest of the day, Harry spent searching for Tom Riddle. But after a few hours, he gave up on it. By then, Ms. Cole had called them all to dinner and all the kids rushed in to the main hall. Harry looked around but he still couldn't spot Riddle. Harry had to give it to him. Riddle knew how to hide properly. Harry finally gave up on the notion of finding Riddle today.

_But tomorrow is always a new day,_ he thought merrily, ladling up the watery looking soup into his bowl.

**Ms. Robertson is an important person in the story. Watch out for her! She is not very nice either.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Name Fact: Vol de Mort means flight or theft of death in French.**

**Chapter 5**

Harry was ready to drop when Ms. Cole ordered everyone to go upstairs and get ready for bed. So, he went to his room which he shared with Gregory and changed into the striped pajamas that were put out for him. Gregory, on the other hand, was 'doing a Riddle' as he ignored Harry. Harry did not start the conversation with him either.

Harry swallowed down his disgust as he lowered himself down onto the disgusting cot. The bed-sheets still looked just as dirty as before.

He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the thin, raggedy , for some reason, Harry woke up during the night. He looked around the room to see what had disturbed him. He saw no one about except for the lumpy, still form of Gregory on the other bed. He snuggled back onto the bed, assuming that it was just his imagination.

The next day dawned bright and clear. Harry sleepily blinked his eyes and stretched slowly, relishing in the warmth of his bedcovers. It was a warm, sunny day outside. _A _p_erfect day,_ he thought. He rolled over, but felt something sticking into him. Something long and rope-like and….scaly? Harry jerked up suddenly and tore off his bedclothes. Underneath it was a snake. A long green snake, that was clearly dead. Harry jumped off his bed and shivered in disgust. Who would go around putting dead snakes into someone else's bed? He knew only one person who would do that. Tom Riddle. _That pathetic, ungrateful, piece of filthy…_he began thinking before he forcefully stopped himself. _No, I am not going to take the bait. I am calm, calm….very calm….. _Harry knew what Riddle was doing. He was trying to frighten him like he frightened the other children in the orphanage; trying to frighten him so that he would leave him alone. Well, Harry would show him that two could play this game.

He lifted the dead snake from his bed using some stick-like thing lying around. Probably Gregory's. _Sorry Greg!_ he apologized mentally.

As he neared the window, Greg's voice startled him. "What do you think you are doing? That's my baton! And is that a... snake?"

Harry winced. _He just had to wake up now, didn't he?_ Harry threw the dead snake out of his window and turned back to see Greg eyeing him in suspicion and disgust. "I found it in my bed. I did not want to touch it," he said in answer to Greg's look, shrugging innocently.

Greg looked scared as soon as he said that he found the snake in his bed. "It's that f-freak, Riddle, I tell you," he stammered out, his voice shaking. "He was annoyed by you yesterday, so he's taking it out on you now."

"Then, it's a good thing that I'm not scared easily," Harry replied, sighing inwardly as he realized that they were not going to stop calling Tom a freak. Greg still looked terrified of the fact that Riddle got into his room at night. "C-come on, then," he stammered, trying to change the subject. "It's Sunday. We have to wear our best clothes to go to Church today."

"I don't have any clothes other than the uniform and these pajamas," he replied. The orphanage had provided him with both. He didn't even have any idea what happened to the clothes that he came here in.  
"That's alright," said Gregory. "You can wear mine. I have one extra because the last one was getting too small for me. It will suit you just fine."

Harry frowned inwardly. What was with everyone and making fun of his size? He was perfectly average, for a 9-10 year old. He hoped he was 9-10 years old. He was just guesstimating from his size alone as there hadn't been a handbook when he came here, outlining his history and characteristics. Talking about which, he needed to come up with a good cover story when they asked him. He was let off easily yesterday because it was his first day, but he was sure that when school started, the interrogation would begin. A sob story would be perfect to gain sympathy and get rid of anything that could be used against him. Or he could claim amnesia. However, he wasn't sure how Muggles with amnesia behaved. Did they forget everything, or just tidbits? And he was also sure the Riddle would see through his façade. So sob-story it was. He would think up of one later.

He quietly changed into Gregory's clothes, snorting inwardly becasue it _was_ a perfect fit for him. He washed and went downstairs for breakfast. Strangely enough, it wasn't Ms. Cole in front of the room today. Someone new was there, lining up all the children into two lines. _So, this was Ms. Robertson_, he concluded. Her hair was tied up in a tight bun and she had thick framed glasses sliding to the tip of her nose. Her mouth remained a grim line. Overall, she looked rather bad-tempered

"Where is Ms. Cole?" he asked a girl, who's hair was braided with ribbons, standing next to him.

"She never comes out on Sundays," she replied. "It's always Ms. Robertson who takes us to Church."

"Line up now," shouted Ms. Robertson over the din. "You, stand over there. No, behind him. You come up here, let her pass." She continued giving instructions until the chaos had died down. "I assume you know how to behave in Church. I don't want to have to explain to the people there why I cannot keep control over you, children." She looked pointedly at Tom Riddle as she said that. He looked back at her coldly, his eyes glinting darkly. She looked away quickly, as if she saw something sinister in his eyes.

She made everyone walk behind her as they exited the orphanage. Gladys was at the end of the line. They walked straight onwards onto the tiny little street which was filled with smoke from all the puffing automobiles there. Harry could see the Church from over where he was standing. It was very close to the orphanage. They only had to cross one small street. The street itself was crowded and honking could be heard as the ancient cars passed through the street. Was London in the 1930's this populated? It looked quite polluted too. The people dressed even more strangely. The women wore some sort of dress, that looked like it was being made into a skirt while the women were wearing it. The top part was sagging over the bottom half and it looked very strange. The men wore similar things to Harry's time. A shirt, overcoat, hats, etc. The difference between old and new London was disconcerting though. Harry did not recognize anything including the streets and the buildings. He began to fully comprehend that he was in an entirely different place. Inside the orphanage, he could pretend that times hadn't changed, but now, only a blind, deaf and slightly deranged person would not see the difference. This revelation sent flutters in his stomach.

Soon, they reached the Church. As they slowly filed in, Ms. Robertson gave everyone a look that promised retribution if they ever put a toe out of line. Harry could see how one could get quite wary of her.

After the service, they slowly made their way back to the orphanage. On the way there, one of the children started crying out loud. It was the girl that he talked to this morning.

"Ms. Robertson," she wailed. "My ribbons are torn to pieces! They were my best ones!"

"Now, now," soothed Ms. Robertson. "It's not too bad, is it? How did they get torn?"

"I don't know," the girl said. "I was walking next to Tom. I was speaking but he wasn't listening, so I poked him. Then, I heard a tearing sound…..and…" she sniffed as if she was too distressed to continue.

As soon as Ms. Robertson heard that, her eyes sought Tom. He was standing a little ways apart, looking entirely too calm.

"It was him. I know it. It was Tom," cried the girl. "He was angry because I poked him. He is the one who can do these freak things."

"Tom," said Ms. Robertson menacingly.

Tom looked at Ms. Robertson innocently. "Yes, Ms. Robertson?"

"Did you do this?"

"Of course not, Ms. Robertson. I didn't even touch her," he replied, his eyes still wide and round with innocence.

Robertson had no way to prove that he did. But, her face grew red with anger. "You are a devil's child, Tom. You'll come to a sticky end if you keep going like this!"

As soon as Harry heard that, he felt his careful control break. Children making fun of children, he could understand. But, when even _adults_ insulted helpless children….. well, not entirely helpless, but it's the principle of the thing. These were the sort of people who helped create Voldemort. Who was she to accuse and degrade someone without factual proof?

Harry stepped forwards, much to the astonishment of everyone there. "You have no right to insult someone like that," he bit out angrily. "You are clearly a prejudiced, bigoted woman, who has no respect for anyone. Even if someone is different, it doesn't mean that they are bad. It's because of people like you who make them feel inadequate, that they lash out."

Ms. Robertson gasped in outrage as he finished talking. "The language of this child! You are no better than him, either. I will teach you not to use such filthy language especially to someone who is your better." She eyed Harry as if she were seeing him for the first time.

Harry was shocked. Out of everything he said, did she only listen when he swore? The rest of his outburst seemed to have gone over her head. All she heard was when he called her foul names. _Seriously, the people in this time needed help,_ he thought, shaking his head.

They started walking again. The other children moved away from him now, as if he were contagious or something. However, his eyes sought Riddle and found him staring at him with a disconcerting expression.

Soon, they reached the orphanage. The other children all avoided his eyes and moved away as Ms. Robertson came up to him. "Boy, you are new here," she began. "That is why your punishment will not be as severe. You will go for a day without any food or drink, in your room. You will not step outside the door. Hopefully, this will teach you some manners and stops you from talking with a foul mouth towards your betters." She then turned to the other kids. "If I catch anyone giving him food, of any kind, they too can join his punishment." She then turned around and walked away towards her office, where she promptly shut herself in.

The older kids went about their business as if nothing unusual had happened, the younger ones milled about, clearly not knowing what to do.

Harry found Gregory coming towards him, a sneer on his face. "I thought you were normal," Greg said, his face scrunching up in disgust. "Why were you defending him? You are just like that freak, Riddle. You both are the same. I don't want to be friends with the likes of you."

Harry gaped. He had apparently just lost the friendship of his roommate. His roommate who could potentially make his life hell. Not a good thing, that. Harry hated his luck. Here he was, in the past, during the time of his arch enemy and he had turned the friends he had, into enemies and his arch-enemy was hiding from him. And this was just the _second _day. Harry cursed the drama in his life. _Why me, Why ME! h_e whined, dismally. Why did all these things insist on only happening to him?

He slowly trudged upstairs to his room, as he was to shut himself in, without food or drink. Any chances that Gregory would have brought him something to eat were nil. He was all alone again, in this new world. Thinking such depressing thoughts, he failed to notice the curious, unfathomable eyes watching him from the shadows of the corridor; the eyes of Tom Riddle.

**Tom Riddle is rather creepy... but I love him! **


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter was updated early on reccommendation of HPOD, my favorite reviewer!**

**Language Fact: Avada Kedavra derives from the Aramic phrase "Abhadda Kedhabhra" which means "to disappear like this world." **

**Anyways...Onto the chapter!**

**Chapter 6**

Harry was hungry and his stomach was making it very clear. He was sure that everyone within 10 miles would have heard his stomach growl in hunger. If he were someone else, he would have mistaken it for a wild, angry cat. Missing one meal a day was fine with him, but missing all of them was a _little _too much, even for him.

Also, he was dying of boredom. He had absolutely nothing to do in his room. No books, no wand, no nothing. He wished he could go to sleep, but as soon as he closed his eyes, various delicious meals swirled in front of his eyes. Meals that he would never be able to reach; always too far.

He just couldn't take it! He missed being fed regularly. He missed having more than two outfits to wear. He missed wearing robes. He missed the smell of his cozy house. He even missed the chatter of his co-workers in his office, something he never thought he would . All in all, he began missing his _past_ life.

He could see how Riddle could turn evil here. Anyone would, with the kind of treatment they received from the other children and the matrons. He was pretty sure that making a child go without food or water counted as child abuse. He wasn't too sure about that in the 30's though. They probably encouraged it.

He sighed again, thinking that now would be a good time to start thinking up his cover story for himself.

Suddenly there was a small knock in the door, disrupting his thoughts. He paused, and turned towards the door. "Come in," he called.

The person that came in was the last one Harry would have expected, doing the last thing that he could have anticipated.

Tom Riddle was standing at the doorway, holding a small sandwich in his hand. Harry's eyes widened considerably.

"Hi," said Tom. "I've brought you something to eat."

"Thanks," said Harry slowly, eyeing the sandwich with suspicion. Considering that this was Tom Riddle, he wouldn't put it past him to poison the sandwich, but now he was too hungry to care. He would have eaten a hippogriff if Tom had brought one. Actually, make that a herd of hippogriffs.

"You shouldn't have done this. If Ms. Robertson finds out, she will make you go without food too." He was just saying to be polite, of course. His hand was already stretching out for the sandwich.

Tom rolled his eyes, striking a nonchalant pose, as Harry grabbed the sandwich trying not to look like someone who hadn't seen food in a decade. "I'm used to going without food," hre replied. "_Anything _to not sit and eat with the rest of the morons. And I don't care what that old bat thinks about me. She can never prove it was me anyway."

Then, they descended into awkward silence, neither willing to break it. That is, until Tom suddenly looked up at him and said, "So...Why?"

Harry looked a bit flustered. "...Why what?"

"Why did you do it? Stand up for me?" he clarified. "You knew that I put the snake in your bed, yet you still defended me. Even after all i did."

"Thanks for that, by the way," answered Harry sarcastically, with a grin. The snake had actually creeped him out a little, not that he was willing to admit it, least of all to Riddle. "And to answer your question, I don't like it when someone calls others hurtful names."

"But I did do it," said Riddle. "I did tear the ribbons on Annie's hair. She doesn't shut up. Also, have you even been poked at by her? She has to have the boniest fingers ever known to mankind. Believe me when I say that it hurts. "

Harry winced inwardly. _Okay, maybe he was a little wrong. Riddle was the culprit. _

_"_Still, Ms. Robertson should never have insulted you in front of all the other children," he bit out, mouth full of the sandwich. It was dry and stale, but to Harry, it was the best thing that he had ever tasted. Considering that Riddle had brought him food, he was feeling very generous towards him.

Riddle was provoked, after all. The girl did sound very annoying. Riddle just shouldn't have retaliate so harshly. Harry resolved to cure him of the habit if he could. That is, if his plan worked.

"Thanks," said Riddle after a while.

He then took a deep breath as if he were building the courage to say something. "Did you...ever wonder how I did it?" he asked Harry.

Harry just looked steadily back at him. When Riddle received no reply, he continued, "I…I can hurt people if I want to."

He looked Harry straight in the eye, challenging him to say something...anything. "I can do things that others can't."

Harry knew that this was a pivotal moment. Riddle was clearly testing him, trying to see what his reaction would be to this revelation. What he answered would probably decide if Riddle would befriend him or not.  
Harry thought carefully before he spoke and answered, "It doesn't matter to me what you _can_ do. I don't care what the others think about you either. It doesn't matter if you are different, it is your choices that make who you are." He looked pointedly at Riddle, arching one eyebrow to emphasize his point.

"I was wrong," Riddle stated, tilting his head to the side and gazing at Harry as if he was a very curious creature that he had never before seen. "You are not like the others." Just then, there was a noise in the hallway. Riddle turned back to the door. Just before he closed it, he stuck his head in again. "By the way, I _am_ sorry for the snake. It won't happen again." Then Riddle shut the door, leaving Harry gawking at the door.

Had Tom Riddle, the future Dark Lord Voldemort, just _apologized _to him for something? Harry couldn't believe his eyes...or ears... or head, or... any other part of his body, to be quite honest. He remained frozen before the true realization crashed over him.

He had succeeded! He had gotten the first sign that Riddle was not inherently bad. He was shaped into a Dark Lord only because of his environment, and here was proof that Harry could influence him.

There was a good possibility that the future could be changed! And boy, was he going to change it!

**Nice Tom Riddle appears! Evil Tom is not fully evil, considering that he is just 9 years old...in my story anyway! **


	7. Chapter 7

***Fun Fact: Did you know that Rowling used only single apostrophes for dialogue in all her books. Strange, huh! (in all my books at least)**

**Chapter 7 **

Considering that his first endeavor to befriend Riddle was a success, Harry decided to go on to the next part of his ingenious plan. So, anyways, onto Part two: altering Riddle so he will not grow up to be an evil megalomaniac. That was the hard part. From what he knew, Riddle was very stubborn and not easily influenced. Harry knew that he could succeed with this part only if he could gain Riddle's trust. And to do that, Harry had another plan. Yes, he was an amazing plan maker of plans within plans of plans that…plan. And that there, was a tongue twister…..sort of! If one actually twisted their tongues when saying 'plans'. Maybe. But he was going off topic. So, first he had to move to Riddle's room, so he could block any sort of outside influence that could potentially ruin his amazing plans. Also, he didn't trust his roommate Gregory to 'do an evil Riddle' and start making his life miserable.

He also knew that if he himself went to ask Ms. Cole for a room change, Robertson would somehow interfere and she would never let him move. For some unknown reason she already hated him. Him! A more innocent person than him one could never find! But Robertson was not exactly...well, _sane_.

_So _she would heed Gregory if _he _asked to switch rooms, wouldn't she? From what he had seen, she liked Gregory. Well, at least she did not hate the kid. Harry was counting on her loathing of_ himself_ to get through the scheme.

And considering how Robertson had said that both him and Riddle were similar, chances were that she would switch him into Riddle's room. Hopefully.

Harry already knew from Dumbledore's memories that Riddle had his own room (probably because he scared off his previous roommate). And he also knew that there was not much space in the orphanage. He was positively sure that Robertson would make him room with Riddle, if everything went according to plan. The only thing he had to do now was irritate, annoy and scare Gregory into complaining to Ms. Robertson so that she would switch him. With how Gregory was behaving towards him, that part seemed quite enjoyable for Harry. He was also quite proficient at _the irritate and_ _annoy_ part, not so much _the scare_ part. He would have to actually creep Greg out enough, for the boy to complain to Cole or Robertson.

He couldn't really think of anything. But he had no scruples about reusing old ideas. Something like what Riddle had done to him.

Harry looked out the window. There was no one there because it was dinner-time and all the kids had gone in to eat, which he couldn't, of course.

_Perfect timing,_ he thought to himself. There was a small drop onto the yard. Harry was positive that he could jump it, the problem was getting back in without anyone seeing him.

He put his leg over the windowsill and took a deep breath and…. jumped.

The jarring impact of the ground with his leg sent shocks through it. Harry winced painfully. He was sure that he probably sprained it._ Maybe_ he might have misjudged the distance a little. He began to limp away from the window.

Moving a bit further away, he could see the dead snake that was in his bed today morning. The one that he had thrown out. Using a stick, he slowly picked up the snake and dropped it into his pocket, swallowing his disgust. _This is for the future,_ he chanted to himself. He also picked up a few sharp-looking stones and nice, squishy mud on the way. Things that he could potentially use for tormenting Gregory. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he was sure he would come up with something. He had enough materials, after all.

He slowly made his way back to the orphanage's back, where the kitchen was. The back door was open slightly. He peeked in. On the far end was Gladys, her back towards him and the door.

He slowly tiptoed past her, trying to make as little noise as possible, wincing every time his sprained leg touched the floor. He gave a sigh of relief when he reached the door exiting to the corridor. All the kids were still in the food hall, eating. He ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, not giving heed to his complaining leg. There was no time to stop. He dashed into his room and closed the door with a slam. _Merlin_, he thought, panting. _That was scary._

By then, he could hear the chatter of the kids downstairs. They were already coming up for bedtime. He jumped into his bed and pulled his bedclothes over him, as if he were lying there the entire time, trying to calm his breathing.

Footsteps sounded outside and Gregory came into the room. As soon as he saw Harry, his face turned sour.

"You better not have touched my things, freak. Or I'll make you sorry," he said, his face scrunching up in disgust. Harry wisely did not retaliate. That boy would get what was coming. Yes, he knew that he was acting childish, but he _was_ a child, wasn't he? That gave him the right to act like one.

Harry _did_ feel a little guilty for what he was about to do, but this was for the future of the world. Sacrifices would have to be made. It was just a side-effect that Harry would enjoy this.

Gregory took a long time getting ready for bed and _finally_, Gregory fell asleep, small snores coming out if his mouth.

Harry waited for a few more minutes and then proceeded to take the snake out of his pocket with Gregory's baton-like thing. He had seen how Gregory had reacted to the snake in his own bed, so he decided to put it into Greg's bed, under his bedclothes. Call him a copycat, but this was a good fear tactic. He had to give it to Riddle. Then, he filled Greg's shoes with stones, making sure that the pointy ends of the stones were sticking up. Then he filled Greg's socks with the squishy mud. Finally , he wrote a small note, saying:

**Hey Greg,**

**Guess what? I _did_ touch your things!**

**Hugs and Kisses,  
****Harry**

He decided to leave the note because he didn't want the blame to go on anybody else. After all, _he_ had to be the one to get into trouble.

After making sure that everything was in place he went back to bed, smiling.

In the morning, a scream rang throughout the orphanage.

Harry blearily blinked open his eyes, a slight smirk on his face. His hoped his plan was a success. He could hear shouting around the corridor already, then heavy footsteps. The door opened to show Ms. Robertson, her face red with anger, still in her nightclothes.

"What do you have to say for yourself boy!" she screamed, holding the note in one hand and the dead, now-really-stinking-badly-snake, in the other. That was gross. Even _he_ hadn't touched the snake with his hands.

A petrified Gregory was standing behind her, tear streaks across his face. He kept shifting from foot to foot, _still_ wearing the shoes and socks. Wow! He was much more manipulative than Harry would ever have thought. He probably kept wearing it to gain sympathy from Robertson. Robertson looked ready to jump to his rescue anyway.

"Gregory got what was coming to him," replied Harry flippantly. He had learned the hard way, how easily he could annoy someone by just opening his mouth. He was counting on it now.

Ms. Robertson puffed up in outrage, her face going a shade of red that Harry wouldn't have thought possible, the buttons on her nightclothes looking fit to burst. "Apparently, you have not yet learned your lesson, boy. Today, you will stay in all day and clean the kitchen floor. Not a spot of dirt should be left when I come to check over it. Hope that punishment is sufficient to get through your thick head. Again, you will receive no food or drink."

"But M-ms. Robertson," blubbered Gregory. "I don't want to be in the same room as this freak. He is just like Riddle. Who knows what he will do when I'm asleep? How… how can I-" He burst into large noisy sobs that sounded extremely fake, to Harry's ears at least.

Ms. Robertson looked a little flustered for a second. She petted Greg as if to say '_there there'_. She dithered around a little before her eyes became hard and cold, as she made her decision. "Hear that, boy? It is only two days since you got here, and look at how you are looked at already. Only because of your foul mouth and your insolent attitude."

Harry looked back at her, trying to make his face as insolent-looking as possible.

"You are not even sorry, are you boy?" she shrieked, spittle flying out of her mouth in indignation. "I will not have you contaminating the good children in this place. I already have Riddle doing that. Maybe I'll make you share your room with him. Then we'll see."

Harry tried to keep his face straight, trying his best to suppress the grin that was threatening to break across his face. He crossed his fingers behind his back. This was it!

"Pack your things up, boy," said Ms. Robertson at last. "You are moving."

**Dun dun dun... Robertson really dislikes Harry,doesn't she?**

**Also, I am thinking that I should begin updating only once a week, my current updates are very erratic...Your thoughts?**


	8. Chapter 8

***Fun Fact: Did you know only Alan Rickman, the actor who played Professor Snape, knew his character's fate before the release of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" because Rowling told him. Lucky him!**

**Chapter 8**

Harry rolled around contently on his bed. Riddle's expression when he was told that he was now sharing a room with Harry was priceless! The scowl on his face…. It made the rest of his day!

He looked over to the side of his bed to see Riddle glaring at him. A book sat on his lap but his eyes were staring daggers at Harry.

"I still don't like you, you know" Riddle said. "I might have been nice to you once, but to be honest, you are far too annoying to be liked." He kept on glaring morosely at Harry.

"That's alright," replied Harry, glibly. "I tend to grow on people."

Tom huffed, and looked outside the dreary window, giving up on talking to him.

Harry had spent the whole day cleaning the kitchen. It was actually fun because Gladys was also there. Though quiet and timid, she was entertaining. Both of them spent lots of time bad-mouthing Ms. Robertson, who also tortured Gladys frequently. Later, she had even sneaked him some food, so even his stomach liked her. He sighed. The success of his previous plan did not give him any illusions about the next part. He was sure that Riddle would not be so accommodating to change himself.

"How was school, today," he asked Tom after a while, trying to fill the silence that had grown around them.

"None of your business," answered Riddle, not even looking up from his book.

…

"What book are you reading?"

"None of your business," came the answer again.

….

"It looks really interesting."

…..

"Did you really kill a poor, innocent baby rabbit?"

Riddle exploded. "What is it with you? Can't you stay for 5 minutes without opening your mouth? I take back everything I've said about you. You are not like the others. You are _far, far more_ infuriating." Then he added dejectedly under his breath, _'I wish I had my room back to myself.'_

"Geez, Sorry," said Harry, rolling his eyes. He knew that there would be some technical problems when he moved to Riddle's room. He did not expect Riddle to roll over and let him in. After all, Riddle _was_ Riddle.

He was still utterly bored, though. He looked around trying to occupy himself with something. He suddenly found Riddle's book-cover fascinating. He stared at it from different angles, trying to make out shapes in the faded colors. He kept staring until Riddle's face began to resemble a thundercloud.

"Is my face so interesting?" asked Riddle darkly, looking quite dangerous.

"No," replied Harry slickly. "Not really."

"Good," came the reply. "Then look somewhere else."

"I was just providing you with entertainment," said Harry peevishly. "I would have thought that you'd like the idea of having someone to talk to."

"Not when that someone is you," came the reply. "But I concur," Riddle said suddenly, closing his book and looking at Harry. "Compared to the others in this orphanage, you are not that bad."

"I know," answered Harry, self assured of his own worth. After all, Riddle did talk to him without any murder attempts and wonders beyond wonders, had actually apologized to him. That did not happen to just anyone, so Harry was quite sure that Riddle would not be killing him anytime...yet.

"But the question remains. Why?" asked Tom, looking up at Harry intriguingly. "I understood your reasons before, but I don't think that is the entire truth."

Harry grimaced inwardly, trying to clear his face of any suspicious or guilty looks.

"You see," continued Tom, his clear eyes piercing Harry's. "Any other person might have acted nice to me based on the reasons that you gave. But you….you have done everything possible to get on my nerves and make me talk to you. You are the first person in the entire orphanage who is not freaked out by the fact that I can do things that others can't. Not even a '_How do you do that?'_ that everyone else asks. So, tell me Harry. Who are you really and what do you want from me?"

Harry took a deep breath, trying not to panic. He didn't think Riddle was so perceptive. He should have not been so obvious. Blast it, he should have come up the cover story yesterday.

He finally decided to go with part of the truth. He was not a great liar up-front, usually. This way, it was safer and he hopefully wouldn't get his stories mixed up later on.

"I haven't been entirely truthful with you," he began, praying that he wasn't making a mistake. "You see, as soon as I saw you, I knew you were different….. I knew that you were like me."

"Like you?" asked Riddle. "Explain," he ordered.

"The things that you can do…. the strange unexplainable happenings….. they happen to me too."

Riddle narrowed his eyes. "What exactly are you talking about?"

"You asked what I want from you," continued Harry, ignoring Riddle's question. "I don't want anything from you except your friendship. You see, before I came here, I used to live with my Aunt and Uncle. My parents had died when I was a baby. And I don't think that my aunt liked my parents all that much."

Harry took another breath before continuing. He was planning on giving Riddle the truth of his real past, just changing around the details, such as the date and time, and the names so that he would know to keep his stories straight. His past was a good enough sob-story, especially if he changed around some of the details.  
"They….When they saw that strange things happened around me, they began treating me horribly. I was given a million chores to do. I watched them love their own child, spoiling him, as I was shut up in my cupboard, which was my bedroom."

Harry didn't want to reveal such personal details, but he had to gain the trust of Riddle. So, he plunged forth. "Each time I did something strange, I was punished and reprimanded. They treated me more like a slave than a nephew, I think. They tried to convince me that what I could do was just my imagination, but I knew that it wasn't. Every time that I tried to convince them, they threatened to dump me at the orphanage." This part was absolutely true. How many times had Uncle Vernon threatened to do that? He was sure that it was only due to Dumbledore's threat that they actually didn't.

Now came the improvisation part. "It was last Saturday, when I was outside doing chores that it happened. My cousin came outside and began taunting me. I told him to go away, but he wouldn't. Then he tried to grab me and suddenly, he was lying on the ground, crying his eyes out. I did not really try to do anything, but it just happened. As soon as my Uncle heard that, he decided that he had enough and left me on the streets. He never looked back." Remembering what Greg had told him about how Ms. Cole found him on the doorstep, he incorporated that part into his story. "I just kept on walking and walking until I felt like I would drop from exhaustion. That's when I saw this orphanage. By then, I don't really remember everything perfectly. Then, when I woke up, I was in a soft bed, here." Harry paused here, giving time for the story to sink in. To be quite honest, the bed was not really soft. It was lumpy and dirty and disgusting. Not that he was complaining.

"When I saw you," he continued. "When I heard the stories that the other children said about you, I understood that you were like me. I understood that you could do things that were similar to what I could do and the other children were afraid of you for that. I know what that feels like. I received the same thing from my relatives. That's why I wanted to befriend you. That's why I defended you. You and I….. We're the same."

If Harry had known a week ago that he would say such things to his arch-nemesis, he would have Cruciated that person right there. Now, look at him….

During the entire recounting, Riddle had not said a word. He just sat there, listening intently to all Harry had to say.

Harry was too scared to look up now. Would Riddle have bought it? He didn't want to look up and ruin everything. What if he didn't believe him? What if Riddle did something to him? Harry cursed himself again for his infernal luck in not getting a wand sooner.

"Prove it."

Harry looked up in surprise. Riddle's face looked like it was set in stone, his eyes cold and hard, and his mouth a thin line. Though his face remained unmoving, his eyes showed the inner turmoil within him. Harry flinched unconsciously at the commanding glare that Riddle was giving him. If looks could kill, he would have been dead on the spot.

He was doomed. He had no way to prove that he had magic, because his accidental magic was outside his control. Unlike Riddle, he couldn't call his magic forth at will.

"Why should I believe anything you've said? I've only known you for less than 4 days. Why should I believe that this is not some sort of cruel joke?" continued Riddle, harshly, his eyes promising retribution if it was.

Harry gulped audibly. He could only hope that he had some semblance of his magic left. He had never brought forth his magic wandlessly, but it flared up naturally in life-or-death situations. This should certainly count as one, he thought. If he couldn't prove he had magic, Riddle would probably kill him. Painfully.

Harry pointed his hand towards the wardrobe, trying to do what he had seen Dumbledore do in the memories. He forced himself to think of the wardrobe on fire. He willed his magic to flow through his hand and set fire to it. He imagined flames shooting from the tip of his fingers onto the cupboard. After a few minutes of his attempts, feeling like he had just done a million push-ups after running a mile, he looked up to see the wardrobe still looked untouched. Blast it!

"I thought so," said Riddle, looking at Harry in contempt.

"N-no," said Harry, beginning to panic. "I was telling the truth. You have to believe me." He tried to squash his increasing panic. His plans would be ruined. Riddle would never trust him again.

"I don't think so," replied Riddle. "You c-" Riddle paused suddenly and looked to the side.

The wardrobe was on fire.

_The wardrobe… was on…. fire…._

Harry nearly laughed in glee. He had done it. He had set the wardrobe on fire without his wand! Riddle _had _to believe him now. He proved that he had magic too.

Then only did he actually look properly at what he had done.

_ The_ _wardrobe was on_ _fire! _In a building that was primarily made of wood, he had set something on fire, with no way of ensuring that he could extinguish it.

The flames began to flare up to the ceiling of the room.

Riddle was frozen, looking at the wardrobe in shock. He snapped out of it and turned back to face Harry, his eyes screaming bloody murder.

_Oh damn! _Harry thought. He was dead. Dead, dead, dead.

"Don't just stand there like a dolt," screamed Riddle. "Go get the matrons, NOW!"

Harry took the chance and ran out of the room. Harry ran downstairs shouting for help. Ms. Cole ran out of her office, Ms. Robertson close behind her. "What happened?" they asked simultaneously.

Harry quickly gasped out, "The cupboard….fire….it's on fire."

Cole and Robertson jumped into action so fast that Harry was not even sure what happened. Robertson was running to the kitchen, screaming for Gladys to get water ready. Cole ran upstairs with a speed that belied her size. As Harry reached his room, it was already filled with smoke to the brim. Harry could see Tom near the wardrobe. He was trying to smother the flames that were building up in size and intensity. Harry could feel his eyes beginning to water.

"TOM, GET OUT!" screamed Ms. Cole, as she tried to enter the room.

By then, the other children in the orphanage had come out of their rooms, to see what the commotion was. Cole was forced to look to them as she tried to order them to get downstairs, out of the way of the fire.

Utter chaos followed. The little children began screaming and crying. The bigger ones trying to get the little ones downstairs safely were shouting to one another over the din. Smoke began filling the corridor.

Harry couldn't even see Tom anymore. He began to panic. No way, was he going to let someone die because of him, especially a child, no matter who the child was. He had been the one to set the wardrobe on fire, and he should be the one trying to extinguish it. Covering his nose and mouth with his shirt, he plunged into the room. Smoke was pouring out of it, making his eyes burn. He could hear Cole behind him, shouting at something. He ignored her and moved forward. By then, the flames had begun licking at the windowsill. Harry looked around the smoke-filled room, trying to catch sight of Tom. He couldn't see him anywhere. He wasn't near the cupboard anymore. Harry moved forward again, unable to stop breathing in the fumes. Near the bed was a crumpled body.

"Tom!" he shouted, running towards the small lump. He rolled him onto his back. Tom's face looked pale and haggard. Harry concluded that Tom was probably trying to escape the room, when the smoke and fire became too much for him. Harry cursing his small size and meagre strength, dragged Tom over to the other end of the room, where there was less smoke at the moment. The way that Harry had come in was completely flame filled. There was no way out. He covered Tom with a blanket on the floor, shielding him from the flames. He could hear shouting from outside the room, but the fire and smoke were beginning to overcome him. His vision began getting hazy around the edges. The room began to swirl slowly and Harry knew that he couldn't keep his eyes open for much more. He had inhaled too much smoke already. He shoved Tom further to the corner of the small room away from the flames as shouts pervaded in the background. He still couldn't hear the words over the resounding din between his ears.

He finally gave up his fight to stay conscious, giving in at last to the inviting blackness.

**I know... I'm evil...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Wierd Fact: Apparently, JK Rowling said you don't say the 't' in Voldemort. It's Voldemor(silent 't').**

**Chapter 9**

Harry awoke to the sound of voices. His left arm felt like a mountain of fire ants had chosen it as a place for their nest. His head felt woozy but, he felt like he couldn't go back to his blissful darkness with the annoying voices and the new colony of fire ants on his arm. He tried to open his eyes, feeling as if someone had glued them shut. The fire ants still seemed intent on trying to eat his hand from inside out.

"He's waking up," said a voice. It sounded female and very young. _Hermione?_ he thought for a second. Then he remembered. He was in the past. Hermione was not even born yet. That raised the question of what exactly had happened. He tried to get his muddled memories in order. He remembered telling Riddle his tragic sob story. Then….Of course! He was a complete and utter twat and set a wardrobe on fire.,.. in a wooden orphanage. Tom was trying to put it out when Harry was there…._Tom!_ He was unconscious when Harry had found him. Was he hurt?

Harry struggled to wake up properly, so he could see for himself, but his eyelids felt dry and gritty.

Harry opened his eyes at last, blinking against the sudden harsh light. He was greeted by Gladys, who was sitting beside him.

"Hello, Harry," she said, softly.

Harry opened his mouth to ask about Tom, but his mouth felt like it was filled with sand. "T..t-tom," he croaked out at last, raising his head to look around the room. His voice was almost non-existent. The moment he tried to lift himself off the bed, his left arm exploded in pain, nearly blinding him. _The fire ants were getting touchy_, he thought. He finally blinked away the white spots that entered his vision.

"Shh, it's alright. Doctor Hughes patched you up," said Gladys. "You'll be fine."

Patched him up? That probably meant that he was burnt in the fire. That was what it was. His colony of fire ants was not really there! How sad…. He would miss them…. NOT! The room he was in was the medical room in the orphanage. He looked at his left arm wincing at the movement, to see it covered in bandages. Not good. He had gotten hurt and this time, there were no potions or charms to instantly heal it, meaning that he had to do this the Muggle way. Harry groaned inwardly.

"Where's Tom?" he asked Gladys, raising his eyes to meet her kindly ones. "What happened?"

"Tom is fine. You probably saved his life," she said, smiling at him. "After you went into the room, Ms. Robertson, some of the passers-by and I had arrived there with water. By the time we doused the flames, both you and Tom were unconscious with smoke inhalation. You had covered Tom with the thick blanket but you were exposed to the fire. Your left arm got burned a little. It wasn't serious and Dr. Hughes arrived here soon after and he took care of it."

Tom was _fine_. That was what he wanted to hear. Harry sighed with relief. He could never forgive himself, if his stupidity had resulted in the death of a child, no matter who that child was. And Tom was not even hurt.

Harry balked at the thought of what could have happened. He probably deserved getting burned for not thinking straight.

"Where is he?" repeated Harry.

"He's downstairs," answered Gladys. "He never left your bedside if he could. Ms. Cole had to threaten him to get him downstairs to eat something."

Tom was waiting up for him? How did that sound comforting, sweet and ominous at the same time? He wasn't sure if Tom was waiting for him to get up so that he could kill him…. which he would actually understand. If it was Harry in Tom's place, he would have. But, Harry was not very sanguine with that idea for some reason. Or maybe Tom was there to say thank you? One could never know with someone like him.

"Tom, there you are!" said Gladys suddenly, turning around to face the door. Harry turned to see that Tom had arrived. He was standing near the door looking at Harry. Harry smiled weakly not knowing if it was a good thing that Tom was here, or bad. Almost imperceptibly, Tom gave Harry a small nod of acknowledgment…..coming from Tom, that was equivalent to getting on his knees and kissing his feet in gratitude. Harry was hopeful that he might not be dying anytime soon at Tom's hands.

"Are you alright?" he asked Tom. Tom nodded. His face was still blank, revealing nothing, but his eyes gleamed in anticipation.

"I'll go call Ms. Cole," put in Gladys suddenly. "She told me to call you when you woke up." She got up and left, leaving Harry alone with Tom. Harry gulped inaudibly.

"You were telling the truth," said Tom in a quiet voice. "You can do strange things, like me…..powerful things." His eyes were sizing Harry up, as if he had never seen Harry before. 'I wonder how…" he mused speculatively.

Harry kept silent. He was not supposed to know anything about the Wizarding world if he had to remain consistent with his past story.

"Our room is entirely destroyed," remarked Tom conversationally. "The fire from the wardrobe was stopped before it could spread out of the room. Apparently a few passers-by heard the shouting and helped out. The old bat got everyone out by then, I heard. They were talking about what could have caused it," he said, his eyes gleaming conspiringly. "For some reason, they think that an overheated light-bulb was the reason, even though Ms. Robertson looked at me a few times in suspicion…."

"They didn't think that you did it, did they?"asked Harry aghast.

"No," replied Tom, smiling smugly. "Even Ms. Cole knew better than to accuse me with something so serious, without proof, considering that I was trying to put it out. Ms. Robertson was not so accommodating." He grimaced slightly, as if he had just thought of something unpleasant. "Which brings me to the point," he continued. "What do you think it means? The things that we can do. Why is it only us, who are different? How can we do it?" Tom's eyes were glinting in anticipation.

Harry grimaced as he lifted himself into a sitting position, his left arm protesting against the movement quite loudly.

"To be quite honest-" he began, when there was a knock on the door. Harry looked up, expecting to see Ms. Cole, but seeing a young man instead, who looked like he was in his late twenties. His hair stood up on end, as if he spent his free time sticking his fingers into electrical sockets. He looked nervously at Tom and Harry.

"Hello, boys," he said. "I am Dr. Hughes." He looked around the room, as if looking for something, or someone. "Young Gladys must have left already, am I right?" he confirmed. Both Harry and Tom nodded.

"Good," Dr. Hughes said, smiling hugely. "There is something I wish to discuss with you." Tom began to get up thinking that the doctor wanted to talk to Harry, when Dr. Hughes stopped him. "You too, young man."

Tom sat down, sharing a look with Harry as if asking if he had any idea what was happening. Harry gazed back at him quizzically. As far as he knew, the only one injured here was Harry, and to his knowledge, doctors liked to talk more to adults than children about such grave matters.

"What is it?" asked Tom, trying not to show his curiosity.

"I was not entirely sure where to begin," started the man, hesitantly. "Have either of you noticed strange happenings around you, when you feel bouts of strong emotion perhaps?"

Both Harry and Tom remained silent, both of them unwilling to divulge their secrets to strangers.

"See," he continued. "I am not really a Doctor. My name is Charles Hughes and I am an officer from the Muggle Liason's Office in the Ministry of Magic. We came here because we received a report of large amounts of magical activity happening in this area."

Muggle Liaison's Office? This guy was a wizard? What in Merlin's name was he doing down here? And why was he revealing about magic to two underage kids? Wasn't it always a professor from Hogwarts who introduced Muggle-borns to the Wizarding World? Harry was very confused and…..flabbergasted.

Tom on the other hand was gaping, his mouth open, literally. He eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of his head. "_Magical activity_? _Ministry of Magic?_" he choked out at last, his voice getting squeakier at the end.

"Yes, magic," Hughes confirmed. "You must have noticed the things that you can do. Things that cannot be explained." He looked at both of them shrewdly. "It's magic."

Tom looked at Harry, wonder shining in his eyes. _Magic…_ he mouthed. "It is magic what I can do?"

"Yes," said Dr. Hughes. "We don't usually introduce Muggle-borns to the Wizarding World. It is the job of Hogwarts professors to do that."

"Muggle-borns?" quizzed Tom. "You said you are from the Muggle Liaison's Office. What is a Muggle?"

"Muggles are people who cannot do magic. People like the other children in this orphanage," replied the doctor…or the not-doctor.

"So, you can do magic too?" asked Tom. "You are like….like us?"

"Yes," he confirmed with a grandfatherly smile. "There is a whole world for people like us. A hidden world full of wizards and witches."

"A whole world….." repeated Tom dazedly. "You mean that there are more? More people that can do magic?"

"Yes," said Hughes. "Which brings me to the point." He looked at Harry. "We got readings confirming large bouts of accidental magic occurring here. Technically, we do not interfere when the children are below 11 years old, but this was a special case. The accidental magic set a public place on fire. This could have turned into a large disaster. The Muggles don't really know, but it was us who helped put out the fire, otherwise it would have burned the orphanage down. Whenever there is a large amount of destruction due to accidental magic, the Muggle Liason's Office intervenes, so that our world remains hidden to them. It is imperative that the Muggles don't know about our existence."

"Wait, so the orphanage would have burned down?" asked Harry, distressed. He could have killed dozens of innocent children. The possibilities began to haunt him. Why did he have to be stupid and set something on fire? His left arm began to feel worse, his depressing thoughts adding to his pain.

Tom on the other hand looked undaunted with the prospect of a burned down orphanage. He almost looked like he was smiling. He wouldn't smile would he? At the possibility of the deaths of 50 children and the matrons?

Oh, Who was he kidding? Of course Tom would be smiling. If Harry wasn't the one who started the fire, he would have been sure that it was Tom. Harry was sure that if Tom hadn't received invitation to Hogwarts, he would have probably done something drastic in the previous timeline. He could imagine previous Tom setting fire to the entire orphanage, laughing while he did it even now.

"Yes," said Hughes, bringing him out of his disturbing vision. "However, we altered their memories, so that to the Muggles, the fire was caused by an overheated light bulb. I came here today to make sure that you adhered to this story. We always-"

He was rudely interrupted by Tom, "You _altered _their memories? How can you do that? Does that mean that you will alter ours?"

The man began to look quite uncomfortable and began fidgeting with his tie. Harry felt a little sorry for him. He didn't think that this guy had ever introduced a Muggle-born to the Wizarding World. The sheer amount of questions that someone who had never heard of the Wizarding World would ask, would have crushed anyone. Harry remembered the first time he heard about these things from Hagrid. He did not really feel like it was possible; like it was too good to be true. The only reason he was had not peppered Hagrid with questions was because he had been still in shock over the whole thing.

Also, speaking about being able to alter memories was not going to gain the trust of a suspicious individual. Clearly! Moreover, he had used words that only wizards knew, such as Hogwarts, which would have confused any other Muggle-born if they weren't t like him. That is, from the future.

"No, of course not," replied the man, fervently. "We only alter the memories of the Muggles to keep our world hidden from theirs. We don't touch a wizard's memories. It is a crime to do so without authorization from the Ministry." Harry could see how he clutched his hand tighter in his pocket as he said so. Probably his wand.

Tom still looked at him suspiciously. He opened his mouth, a million more questions on the tip of his tongue, when the door opened once more to let in Ms. Cole.

As she entered the room, Mr. Hughes got up abruptly, smiling at her. He actually looked a little relieved to have been rescued from the million questions that Tom was asking.

"I was just explaining to the boys what had happened," he explained to her. "Harry has only taken a small injury, so he will heal pretty quickly. Just make sure that you give him the medicines that I recommended. You needn't worry. If you need anything, here is my card. It has my address" He gave her a small card.

She accepted it, saying in a simpering voice, "Thank You, Dr. Hughes. You are a great help. I don't know what we would have done without you. I will definitely call you if something happens." She continued looking at him with adoring eyes.

Dr Hughes saluted smartly to both the boys, nodded to Ms. Cole and stepped out of the door, leaving both Harry and Tom gazing in shock and astonishment.


	10. Chapter 10

**Very Strange Fact: The actress who played Moaning Myrtle was 37 years old at the time "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" was filmed. She is the oldest actress to ever portray a Hogwarts student. She certainly doesn't look it!**

**Chapter 10 **

"He left," whispered Tom, staring at where Hughes was standing a few moments earlier. "He left, just like that."

Before Harry could reply something very articulate like, 'uuuuhhh…..'-because he was still in shock with what just happened-, Cole began speaking.

"I hope you boys listened to what Dr. Hughes said," said Ms. Cole. She began arranging all the bed-sheets around Harry as she talked.

Harry began to notice the small glimmer in her eyes every time she said Hughes' name.

"He has prescribed a variety of medicines for you to take until you are well," she continued. "He seems a very good man, very professional and…_ skilled_."

Yes, Harry definitely was not imagining the sparkle in her eyes as she talked about the not-doctor. Ewww! Ms. Cole fancied him! She was probably twice his age! Harry felt a little disgusted and grossed out. He never took Ms. Cole to act like a ….a lovesick teenager! He shook himself to get rid of the highly inappropriate images forming in his head. Ugh! Ms. Cole and Hughes were just too…..Ugh!

He forced himself into the present where Ms. Cole was still extolling the virtues of Dr. Hughes. He pretended to listen, nodding his head every once in a while. After some time, she finished, and left both of them by themselves.

Tom was the first one to break the silence, "Did I imagine what just happened, or did you hear it too?" He still looked slightly confused as if his brain couldn't process what just happened.

"No," answered Harry. "I heard it too. I just cannot believe it." He couldn't. What in Merlin's name was a w_izard_ doing in the orphanage? He knew that because of him, the events of the past was changed quite a lot, but he was hoping not to introduce Tom to the Wizarding World any time soon. He didn't want Tom to get a swelled head, being filled with wizarding prejudices at such an early age. He was quite content to wait out for Dumbledore. Now his carefully made plans were ruined. All because of some stuck up little Ministry worker. Now he had to make new plans. He groaned inwardly. This was too much work!

"So, it did happen?" whispered Tom excitedly. "I knew it!" he shouted, exalted. "I knew that I was different! I was special."

"Technically, you are not…" interjected Harry, holding up his finger, before Tom could get carried away in self-admiration. "Didn't you hear what he said? He said that there are many more people like us. People with abilities like ours. So, we are just one amongst them."

Tom glared at him. "I don't care. I just know that I don't need to listen to the oafs in this orphanage." By the end the sentence, he was smiling widely, a dreamy look upon his face.

Harry was mildly astonished. This wasn't how Tom had reacted when Dumbledore had introduced him to the Wizarding World. This Tom was more_ happy_ than sinister and broody. He actually looked ecstatic with the news that he was wizard. This Tom was still a child, a child who still retained his innocence. Harry was glad he had chosen to help him. This Tom could be changed into a better man, _if_ he had help.

"Where do you think they live?" he asked trying to distract Tom from his dangerous thoughts which would progress towards an ominous path, if continued.

"I don't know," replied Tom. "They could be anywhere. We have never left this orphanage for anything other than school and Church and both places are very close-by. These wizards could be living in any part of London."

Harry wasn't sure if he should do it. He was thinking, now that Tom knew about magic, they could go to Diagon Alley. This way,_ he_ could introduce Tom to the more different aspects of the Wizarding World and filter out the harmful prejudices. He could also try to acquire a wand, if possible. He didn't know how, but he was nearly a sitting duck without his wand. It was just good luck that he got his magic to work in front of Tom. Or bad luck, considering that he nearly burned down the orphanage.

He was willing to venture out of the orphanage with Tom, because as much as it embarrassed Harry to say it, Tom had greater control over his magic and could protect Harry. A very humiliating thought, that -asking for protection from you arch-enemy. But _this_ Tom didn't count as the _arch-enemy_. Now, he was _just_ Tom, a slightly unhinged, misguided boy, who hopefully was now his friend.

"Hey, I have an idea," said Tom, grinning at Harry excitedly. "What if, we try to find where these wizards live?"

Harry tried to keep a very big smile off his face. That was exactly what he wanted to do. Now, he could pull it off as Tom's idea. "That's a great idea," he said. "How do you plan on doing it?" Better give Tom the reins. He was sure Tom would come up with ideas to achieve what he wanted. Harry on the other hand, was drawing a blank.

"You remember the card that Hughes gave to Ms. Cole? I'm sure that there is some form of an address in there, even if it to fool the Buggles."

"Muggles," corrected Harry automatically.

"Exactly what I said," said Tom, waving his hand airily. "Anyway, we have to get the card. Then we can somehow sneak off when they aren't looking and once we reach there, we can declare ourselves as wizards. I'm sure that once they know that, we will be taken to where wizards live."

Harry wanted to point out several flaws in his idea. Like, if the other wizard wanted to take them to where the wizards lived, why would they have voluntarily left them in the orphanage? Also, he was sure that if they reached there – which was very doubtful- they might just find it easier to memory charm them and send them right back. And the _main, most_ _important _problem, that could make or break this plan: _How were they to get the card from Ms. Cole? _Considering her infatuation with the poor man, she was probably going to sleep with it next to her pillow. He voiced that question out loud.

Tom looked a little stumped for a moment. The he perked up. "I know. Tomorrow is Wednesday right? Every Wednesday, around the evening, Ms. Cole takes a long bath. Usually, her room is quite empty. Ms. Robertson goes shopping with Gladys and the other kids would be playing outside. There is no way we would get caught. Also, we don't need to take the card with us. We just need the contact details. We will put it back as we found it and no one will be the wiser." He grinned at Harry winningly.

Harry had to give it to him. It sounded like a foolproof plan. And it was made in the spur of a moment. They were right when they said that Tom Riddle was one of the brightest students that Hogwarts had.

But then again, with his luck, even the best plan could go wrong.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the delay... got sidetracked a little... this is kind of my favorite chapter yet, cuz it ends in a cliff-hanger...FUN!**

**Chapter 11**

Harry moved his sore left arm to a less painful position while trying not to choke at the potent smell during the same time.

Their plan was pretty good. What they hadn't taken into account was that Ms. Cole locked her room from the inside whenever she took a bath. Their only option was to hide inside her room before she locked it. Right now, both he and Tom were squished inside the small wardrobe in her room. Not a pleasant position. Even worse, if you had an injured arm and had to spent the past hour inhaling the potent perfume that Ms. Cole sprayed on all her clothes. _All of it!_ He felt like he was suffocating, as if he was back in the inferno in his room. His arm was hurting enough for it and he couldn't get enough fresh air into his lungs.

He cursed that stupid not-doctor to the seventh hell. He had hoped that considering that he was a wizard, the man would have left something useful, like instant burn healer. He was sure that Madam Pomfrey had something like that. However, the man had been faithful to his Muggle façade and left nothing but Muggle medicine behind. Muggle medicine that Cole insisted he take every day which tasted like his Uncle Vernon's old socks. Or Dudley's. He wasn't sure which was worse.

So, now, his arm felt like it was being pinched and pricked at the same time, and with this horrible smell, he felt like throwing up. Couldn't Cole take a shower already? The rest of his body was getting numb slowly. Tom on the other hand, looked absolutely fine. He was breathing through his nose, not looking like he was going to throw up. Harry glared at Tom in loathing. Here he was, suffering, while Tom looked as if he were sitting at the beach. This was just not fair!

Tom looked back at him steadily, a small smile on his lips. He shook his head minutely as if to tell Harry that he should do nothing stupid like jump out of the wardrobe and run around like a maniac. Which Harry really felt like doing. This sitting around was getting on his nerves….and skin…and mouth and nose and eyes, and even his hair!…..He just felt so bloody itchy! Great. He_ had_ to feel itchy now, didn't he? Why couldn't his body just listen to him for once and behave normally?

"Cathy," said a rough female voice, distracting him from his itchy thoughts. "I'm going to get some of the groceries for next week," it announced.

_'Ms. Robertson,'_ mouthed Tom, looking at Harry. Harry nodded.

Out of everyone in the entire orphanage, Ms. Robertson was the top on his list of most hated people. He would rather be found out by a basilisk rather that her. He was sure the Robertson would take great pleasure in taking both of them apart bit by bit, painfully, if she caught them in Cole's room. Harry was certain that the rumours circulating the orphanage might have some truth in them. That, in her free time, she probably liked to boil and roast innocent little kids. With her demeanor he wouldn't put it past her either.

"Yes, Anabelle," replied Ms. Cole.

_Annabelle?_ That was Ms. Robertson's first name? It sounded like flowers and pixies, whereas the real person reminded people of bad tempered trolls. With glasses.

"Would you lock the door on the way out?" continued Ms. Cole.

"of course," replied Robertson.

He heard the door of the room shut and the lock click, as Ms. Robertson exited. Five minutes later, another sound like the banging of a door came through the cracks of the wardrobe. Both of them stilled, hoping. It could only be Ms. Cole shutting the door of the bathroom. They waited for a few more seconds. When it sounded like there wasn't any more noise from the room, Tom slowly opened the wardrobe and peeked his head out.

"The coast is clear," he whispered. He slowly got out of the wardrobe, Harry close behind him trying to inhale as much fresh air as he could. He would have voluntarily set _this_ wardrobe on fire.

Tom tiptoed past him and began going through Cole's small cupboards. They could hear Ms. Cole humming. Harry began searching around Cole's bed, hoping that his theory was right and Cole had kept the card under her pillow. Sadly he had no such luck. As a few minutes went by, Tom began searching more and more frantically throwing the things higgledy-piggeldy everywhere. Harry began walking behind him, picking up everything that Tom threw.

"Stop it," he whispered harshly. "You won't find it this way. She is going to know that there was someone in this room."

Tom stopped and brushed his hand through his dark lock in resignation. "You're right," he conceded. "I just can't help but think what would happen if we didn't get the card. We would be stuck in this stupid orphanage for the rest of our lives."

Harry wisely chose not to correct Tom by putting in that they would not be stuck here for the rest of their lives because they would eventually go to Hogwarts in 2-3 years.

"We will get i-" began Harry, trying to cheer him up, when Tom suddenly shot his hand up and stopped him. He cocked his ears to the side as if he was listening for something.

They both heard it at the same time and looked at each other in surprise and horror. This wasn't supposed to happen!

Footsteps were ringing down the corridor.

They simultaneously ran back to the wardrobe and jumped in. In his hurry, when Harry tried to get in headfirst, he hit his head on the wardrobe door and his glasses fell off his face. Before he could bend down to lift it, Tom yanked him back into the wardrobe and shut the door. It was not a second too late, because the lock clicked as the door opened and in came Ms. Robertson.


	12. Chapter 12

**Dun dun dun...**

**Chapter 12**

"Cathy dear," Ms. Robertson called.

_Ms Robertson!_ What was she doing back so early? Tom said that once she went shopping, she would be gone for the rest of the day. Harry was suddenly very glad that Tom had pulled him back when he did, because he did not know what she would have done to him had she caught him in such an incriminating situation. Probably something very painful and embarrassing.

"Cathy?" Robertson called again. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the bathroom, Annabelle," Cole replied. "Why are you back so early?"

"It's nothing," said Robertson. "I just forgot my bag where I kept the money. I sent Gladys up ahead while I hurried back to get the money for the groceries."

"Oh yes," said Cole. "I think that I saw it in the dresser."

Robertson began to walk straight towards the wardrobe. The dresser wasn't anywhere here was it? Then why was she coming here? What if she wanted to open the wardrobe? Harry didn't even want to imagine the possibility. He could hear her right outside the door, two inches from his face. Bloody hell! His glasses were right there too! Harry hoped fervently that she wouldn't see them. He tried to calm himself. What were the chances of her looking down and seeing small transparent looking things?

He was sure that everyone within 10 miles could hear his heart thumping wildly in his chest, as if it was trying to get out. He looked up at Tom to see him watching the door tensely too.

"No, I got it," said Ms. Robertson a second later. "It was on top of the wardrobe. I'll be going then."

Harry nearly cried with relief. She hadn't seen his glasses. They weren't found out. They were alive! Alive! Harry nearly let out a breath of relief which was, he later understood, too early, because his relieved thoughts were interrupted a second later by the sound of crunching glass.

A sort of horrific silence hung in the air.

He should have known that with his luck, of course, she wouldn't have seen his glasses. No… she would have stepped on it.

Tom looked at Harry as if they were both being read their death sentences. It certainly felt like it. Harry was sure his heart stopped for a few moments. He held his breath. He could see a little bit of what was happening outside through the small crack between the door of the wardrobe. He saw Robertson pause and bend down. She slowly extended her hand and took Harry's glasses in her hand, peering at them curiously. Recognition dawned on her face slowly.

She looked up straight at the wardrobe. She stretched out her hand and grasped the handle of the wardrobe.

Tom's face was grim and determined. He had closed his eyes and was whispering softly under his breath. Harry couldn't hear it properly but it sounded something like '_Please don't let her open the door…..please don't let her open the door'. _ It was a sentiment that Harry agreed with entirely.

Robertson twisted the handle of the wardrobe and began opening the door, which would have revealed both guilty boys inside it, when a voice behind her stopped her actions.

"Annabelle, what are you still doing here?"

Ms. Cole! Harry could have kissed her, if he had the stamina to do it without puking. Robertson jumped, startled, and withdrew her hand from the wardrobe, turning back to face Ms. Cole.

"N-nothing," she said. " I just thought….I just thought that I saw something there." She eyed the wardrobe suspiciously.

"There's nothing there except for my dresses," said Ms. Cole reassuringly. "No one could have gotten in. The door was locked the entire time."

"Yes, of course," answered Ms. Robertson. "I forgot about that. Sorry for disturbing you."

"Don't worry Annabelle," comforted Ms. Cole. "We _all_ have that problem when we reach a certain age," she continued condescendingly, a motherly smile gracing her features.

Robertson flushed an angry red as she heard the implied meaning. "I'll just be going then," she replied stiffly. "Gladys will be wondering where I am."

Holding Harry's broken glasses in her hand, she shot the wardrobe another suspicious look and exited the room quickly.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He thought that Tom and he were dead for sure. He was never gladder to see Ms. Cole in his life.

Harry, by now had ceased to notice his aching arm or the strong smell in the wardrobe. He leaned back onto one of Cole's dresses, feeling quite tired with all the excitement. For some reason, he could hear a crackle of paper. He twisted his head around and tried leaning back again. The sound of paper crackling came again. It came from one of Cole's dresses. Trying to suppress his excitement, in case it was not what he thought it was, he felt over the dress with his fingers. There was a small pocket in the skirt of the dress. He dipped his hand in and it came out with the card that they were searching for so strenuously. It was in this wardrobe the entire time! Cole had forgotten to take the card out of the dress that she was wearing and they had almost gotten caught searching for it in the room. Harry thanked the stars that after such abominably ill luck, _something _seemed to be going his way.

He signaled to Tom, waving the card about in his hand. Once Tom looked over, his mouth fell open. Harry began smiling widely. '_We got it'_ he mouthed happily. Tom smiled smugly at him, as if he knew all along where it was.

Unfortunately, they couldn't see the little writing on the card from inside the dreary, dark, squishy cupboard. So, they waited a few more moments to make sure that Cole was not still in the room. They heard nothing, so both of them cautiously sneaked out of the room, the precious card in their hands, hoping that Cole wouldn't miss it. After all, she had forgotten it inside her dress pocket.

Once they reached the safety of their own blackened room – which was left the way it is with no wardrobe or cots, as the orphanage did not have enough money to rebuild it and neither did they have any extra rooms to spare- they shut the door and looked at each other for a moment.

Simultaneously, both of them burst out laughing, which erupted into full blown hysterics. The relief at having narrowly escaped their possible deaths made them both quite hysterical. Both of them rolled on the ragged blankets laid on the floor for them to sleep on. Neither of them had any more possessions of their own, to speak of because of the fire.

"Did you see her face when Cole called her old?" snorted Harry, mid-laugh.

Tom nodded as well as could while laughing uproariously. "Yes, a picture of that should have been taken." He replied weakly, beginning to tire from all the laughing.

"I thought that we were dead for sure, when she began to open the wardrobe," he continued, wiping his tears of laughter, away with his hand. "Her face….!" He couldn't continue because he was still giggling weakly.

Harry began to sober up when he suddenly thought of something. "My glasses," he murmured. "She still has my glasses. She knows that it's mine. I saw it in her face. She recognized it."

Tom stopped laughing instantly. "Yes, I had forgotten about that."

"Is there any way that I could get it back from her?" Harry asked, trying to quell the rising panic. "If she realizes that I don't have my glasses, she might put together the pieces and realize that it was us in the room today. Then she'll kill us. Painfully," he added.

"Actually, I think that I know a way around that," remarked Tom. "Come with me." Tom got up and walked out of the room, Harry following closely behind curiously. Did Tom have another pair of glasses? Why would he need them anyway?

He followed Tom outside to the garden, where some of the children were still playing about. No one gave them any heed. Tom stopped at a small, isolated area, away from the public eye, below an oak tree. He looked both ways to make sure that there weren't anybody there and slowly began to dig with his hands on a spot under the tree. Harry felt his curiosity rising with each action. It seemed that Tom had something that he wished to hide from everyone else. After a few seconds, Tom stopped digging and in the small hole was a smaller wooden chest. Harry felt a strange sense of déjà-vu when he saw it. Where had he seen the box before? Tom brought out the box and dusted it proudly as if it was some sort of a trophy. He opened it and inside, Harry saw a yoyo, pair of glasses, a small rubber duck, a mouth organ and various other knick-knacks.

Trophy! This was Tom's trophies. Ones that he had collected over his time on the orphanage. Collected being another word for _stole_. Harry remembered this box in Dumbledore's memories when he had set the wardrobe on fire. So, apparently, Tom had not yet moved the box into the wardrobe? It was a good thing because the wardrobe didn't exist now, considering that it was burned down.

Tom picked up the pair of glasses and held it out for Harry. "Here, see if these are right," he told him.

Harry put on the glasses. The shape of the frame was right but the power of the lenses were different. Everything looked a tad blurrier. However, this was better than nothing, and this would probably fool Robertson. Hopefully. These glasses were perhaps the only thing that could stand between him and certain death. Harry had not illusions about what Robertson would do, if she found out that he was in Cole's room that morning.

Tom got back up after burying the box where he got, dusting himself lightly. "Come on, before they notice us loitering around here."

Both of them rushed back into the orphanage just in time to hear the call for dinner. Both Tom and Harry tried to look as innocent as possible, as if they had been doing nothing but take a walk around the house. Today, there was only broth and a piece of bread as dinner. They went to the table that Tom had taken for his own, considering that none of the other children dared sit there. Now, he shared it with Harry.

Soon after, they got ready for bedtime, trying to bundle their clothes as best as they could to serve as make-shift pillows when they were interrupted by footsteps. The door opened and someone came in, expression foreboding and a malicious glint visible on the face. Ms Robertson had arrived back at the orphanage and by the look of the broken pair of glasses held in her hand and her spiteful smile, Harry was in trouble.


	13. Chapter 13

**A 'sirius' talk with Tom...**

**Chapter 13**

"So, you thought that you wouldn't get caught, did you?" she smirked triumphantly at Harry. Harry looked back at her, the picture of innocence, mentally thanking Tom. Harry was willing to let slide the fact that Tom had once stolen the pair of glasses - that was now resting on the floor next to him, which he had removed to sleep- if only because Harry's life was saved in the process.

"I beg your pardon, Ms. Robertson. I don't really know what you are talking about." Harry made his green eyes go as wide as possible, honesty radiating out of them. He was getting pretty good at acting.

"Of course you do, boy!" she shrieked, letting go of her short control. "You were in Ms. Cole's room today, weren't you? You were no doubt up to some nefarious activity no doubt. You thought that you wouldn't get caught, did you? Well, guess what boy! You forgot your glasses there. Only you wear this kind of spectacles. It was not hard to deduce that it was you who was in the room. Both of you probably. You are in deep trouble now." She finished with a victorious sniff.

Harry blinked innocently back. "Ms. Robertson, I think that you made a mistake. My glasses are right here. " To emphasize his point, he lifted his new pair of glasses from the floor and held it up for Robertson to see. Her eyes bulged, looking like it was going to jump out of her head. She opened and closed her mouth, so much that Harry began to wonder if there was a fish somewhere in her ancestry. Finally she found her voice. "Where did you get that, boy?"

"I had them when I came here," Harry answered unflinchingly. He was getting pretty good at this lying thing. " I did not need to get them from anywhere."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Tom nearly choking himself, trying to hold back his laughter, as Harry blinked his eyes innocently again, overdoing it a bit. Robertson puffed up in outrage so much that Harry confirmed his suspicions that she must have a puffer fish as a grandparent. She certainly had spikes enough for it. Her nose, for one. Then her lips. Even her eyes could be called sharp and flinty. Yes, 'spiky' described her accurately.

"You...I'll... ugng!" She made a wild angry, animal sound, throwing his real glasses on the floor in anger.

Harry looked on in false concern, as a vein threatened to burst in her forehead. "Are you alright, Miss? Do you want me to call someone?"

"Mark my words boy," she warned in an ominous tone, ignoring his question. "One day I'll prove that it was you, the both of you who create the problems in this orphanage. Then both of you will get thrown out in the street. Do not think that you can fool me with your childish looks and naiveté. I know what you are, demons the both of you. I'll prove that it was you, even if it is the last thing I do." She glared darkly at the both of them as she slammed the newly fitted door on their faces.

"I never knew that a face could turn this shade before," remarked Tom casually, as if this were something that happened everyday for him, which thinking about it, probably did.

"I don't really think that it's safe to let her around children. She is clearly unstable," said Harry. It was an honest concern. That woman was quite... unhinged. Seriously, why else would she accuse him of something so dastardly, if she wasn't? (barring the fact that it was really him who did it with Tom's help)

Still, how could she throw such harsh accusations at a child? If he were an actual child, he would have been hurt and angered. Like Tom was, in his previous life.

"She had said worse things to me," Tom said, trying to look comforting but failing miserably. "She has always found a way to blame me whenever something wrong happened, even when it wasn't my fault. That's when I decided that if she is going to blame me anyway, it won't matter it I actually do them." Tom stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground, scowling.

Harry understood better now. Tom was forced into the life he lived because of people like Robertson. This sort of attitude later would lead him down the path of Voldemort. Harry wasn't going to let it happen. "That is not really a good way to look at the world. You should choose your life based on _your_ wishes. Not based on how someone else treats you." Harry raised his eyes to look at Tom deep blue depths. "If you did not do something but get accused, you don't have to justify it by doing it anyway. Your life is yours to live, Tom."

Tom looked back at Harry, his eyes showing a strange yearning, as if he couldn't believe whatever Harry told him but he desperately wanted to. He shook his head, lowering it in shame. "No, I can't do that. I live here. I have nowhere else to go. No one to go to. I have no liberty to make my own choices. You might have had that opportunity but I am condemned to walking the path that I have started upon."

"You're wrong," said Harry in a quiet voice. "You forget, Tom. You are a wizard, like me. You _can_ make your own choices. You should show people like Robertson that they were wrong. You are not like they tried to make you to be. You can live your own life." A strange light was shining in his eyes as he finished his impassioned speech.

Tom screwed up his eyes in denial. "I cannot! I cannot... They condemn me anyway. Why should I care what-..." he paused, taking a deep breath. "Why should I act any different to show them anything. I don't care what they think. I ceased caring long ago when I realized that they hated me for being me. I cannot change anything."

Harry tried a different tactic. "Then don't care about what they think or say. But Tom, don't you care about your own opinion. Is this how you want to live your life? Condemned and accused? If not to show them, then do it for yourself. Do it, so that you will not regret your decisions in the future."

Tom remained quiet while Harry mused how their conversation had taken such a grave turn. Harry had meant every word he said. He did not want to let Tom become Voldemort. Before he was focused on the change to save the world from a war, but now he was saving a child from damnation by everyone he would know. Harry was sure that, barring Bellatrix (who was completely and utterly nutters!), not even the Death Eaters _liked_ Voldemort. They might have admired him and remained in awe of him, but no one really liked Tom Riddle as a person. Not even himself. Voldemort might have delusions of grandeur but deep down he must have had a conscience. One that would have buried itself in shame every time Voldemort committed some despicable deed.

Harry was willing to do anything to stop it from happening. Tom still had a chance and Harry was going to keep it that way.

"I don't know how," a small voice admitted. Harry glanced at Tom in apprehension. "I don't know how to change," continued Tom. "I might have once been nice to others, but now, every time I see their faces, I feel anger and hatred for how they treated me bubbling up. I cannot look at them and pretend that nothing they said or did hurt me."

"You are nice to me," Harry stated. "If you can be nice to a person you knew for less than a week, then you can be nice to others. Don't take it to heart if they shun you at first. Try again. Believe me, it feels very good when you do something for someone else without asking for anything in return." Harry smiled at Tom, his eyes far away as he remembered his past life. He spent his whole life fighting for the rest of the world, and when he had succeeded, he did feel happy. Safe and content and peaceful. That is until the Ministry invades into his life.

"How can you know this?" asked Tom looking at Harry in open curiousity. "Why are you so...wise? You are no older than I am. Yet, you speak as if you have lived through such experiences."

Harry ducked his head to hide his grimace. Blast it! He should remember to act more like a child and less than the twenty-five year old he actually was.

"I have had people act to me like they did to you," he affirmed. "But, someone very wise told me that it is not others who make you who you are, but yourself." If Dumbledore were alive, Harry was sure that he would have said something like that. "I did not understand what they meant, not really, until I actually had to make the choice myself. I decided that no matter what others thought of me, I would live my life the way I wanted." He stood up straight and proud at his declaration. Harry wanted to entice Tom to a better life, and what way was better than to give himself up as a role model? Harry hoped that Tom would take the things he said to heart.

Tom said nothing to this, but slowly walked forward and picked up the broken glasses Robertson had thrown on the floor. He stood up and held his hand with the glasses out for Harry. Harry moved forward and took his glasses from Tom's hand.

They were repaired. The broken lenses looked as good as new.

"Thank you," said Tom, smiling peacefully. "You are a good friend. I'm glad to have met you."

Harry smiled back softly. "Me too, Tom. Me too…."

For it was because of Tom, Harry had found a new purpose in his life.

**I know Tom is a little OC, but I think that if he had someone who actually cared about him, then he would have changed **


	14. Chapter 14

**Incredibly sorry for the delay in uploading...nywayzzz this was a special chapter about Harry in Muggle school, as per request of HPOD... Have fun!**

**Chapter 14**

Tom wanted to dash off to the address in the card the next day, but Harry stopped him (at great risk to his own life, of course).

Harry managed to convince Tom that going off during a school day was not the best of plans as they would find them missing easily. They had to go at a time where their absence would not be noticed. Harry was aiming for the weekend. According to Tom, the entire day of Saturday was left for the children to catch up on their schoolwork and play about. Harry was certain that the deficiency of two kids amongst 5 dozen would not be discerned easily.

So, today, they would be going to school. Muggle school for the first time, for Harry. He was decidedly nervous but was determined to stick by Tom, to mainly fend off any potential bullies and encourage Tom to go through with his decision to change. Harry wouldn't have any measly teacher ruin all that he had convinced Tom.

The school was the building nearby, right next to the Church. As they entered, a small balding man wearing huge glasses was writing something on the board. Mr. Clarke was his name, according to Tom, who had already filled Harry in on about the school, much to his relief. He had also helped Harry with what they were doing in school as Harry looked like he was on the edge of a panic attack. Harry had realized with gratitude that Tom was a proficient teacher when he put his mind to it. By the morning, Harry had learned about something called _pi _(felt hungry every time he thought about it),_ Pythagor-as..am Theorem,(_couldn't even pronounce it properly_) _and _Types of Geometrical Shapes (_circles and squares were what he knew before, now there were something called trapezoids? And parallelogram? Mental these Muggles were, without magic!) and and talking about mental, _Mental Math,_ which covered what they were doing so he felt prepared for all that could happen.

As everyone filed in, talking and chatting, the short man turned around and rapped the foot long ruler on the table.

"Silence!"

Everyone fell silent immediately. His keen eyes surveyed the class. "I see that we have a new face amongst us," he said, looking at Harry. "Introduce yourself, boy."

He shared a glance with Tom who was sitting next to him and Harry stood up, his knees feeling a little wobbly. The man's staring was unnerving. He reminded Harry of Dumbledore, as if he was staring at your very soul. There was no twinkle though (Thank Merlin! he did not think he could take any more twinkly old coots) "I'm Harry, sir," he addressed the man.

"Don't you have a surname, Harry? Or do you expect me to call you Harry?" he delivered, a sarcastic tone to his voice.

Harry had thankfully thought of a surname before. "It's Wood, sir. My name if Harry Wood."

Harry did not want any names that would be recognized as solely wizardish. Wood was a common name that could belong to both wizards and Muggles. Considering his possible future, he had leverage to claim both. He could claim to be distantly related to Oliver Wood's family or a family of Muggles, if needed. It was an inconspicuous name for an inconspicuous time-traveler.

The teacher nodded, gesturing at him to sit down. "Good. Now, I assume that you have been told of what happens in this class by your classmates? Yes? Well, then-" he continued without waiting for Harry's reply, "Today we are going to be practicing mental math that..." Harry began to tune out the chatter of Mr. Clarke. He tried to listen, he really did. From what Tom had told him about Clarke, he assumed he would be less monotone, but the same pitch of voice reminded him of Binns. In Binns' class all he did was sleep. Thinking about it made him feel very tired and sleepy. He began to doze off, his eyelids beginning to droop.

"Mr. Wood!" a voice startled him out of his reverie. Mr. Clarke, as well as the rest of the class, was staring at him.  
"Can't you hear me, boy?" asked Clark. "I have been calling your name for the past ten minutes. What is the sum of three minus five plus eight multiplied by two?" he rattled out in one breath.

Harry was flabbergasted. His head was still feeling a little woozy from his nap. He resolved to be more attentive. It wouldn't do to ignore his last name, considering that no one had ever called him Wood before. He stammered out the answer. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't an utter dunce at everything other than Defense. Largely thanks to Tom's coaching, he was feeling quite proficient at mental math.

Thankfully, it was the correct one. The teacher nodded in appreciation and he sat down, thankfully. Tom gave him a reprimanding look as if chiding him for nearly falling asleep in class.

The rest of the lesson went smoothly as Harry willed his eyes to keep themselves open and alert. He wouldn't be caught off guard this time. Soon, while everyone was given questions to complete in class, the bell rang for lunch.

Then, all hell broke loose. The children began to run down to the grounds for recess. Harry was pushed along with Tom into the grounds as the other kids stampeded outside in relief of being away from class, even if it was for a half-an hour. Jostled and shoved, Harry felt his annoyance increasing with each step as he saw Tom and the arm-length of a distance that everyone kept from him. Tom walked coolly outside as if enjoying the fact the other children were afraid to come near him.

After wandering around for some time with Tom, having nothing to do, Harry decided that he could use with a drink of water.

He left Tom underneath the elm tree where they were sitting, saying that he would be right back.

He rounded the corner of the school building when a shout pervaded his senses.

"Hey freak!"

A fat boy of nearly 14 years came waddling up to him, his bunch of goons behind him. Harry began to wonder at why bullies always needed a couple goons around them. Dudley, Malfoy and even Fudge, were bullies that he had personal acquaintance with, who never walked two steps without back-up.

"I called you," the big boy said mockingly. "Don't you recognize your own name?" The other boys around them laughed as if this boy had said the funniest joke in the world. Harry stood there saying nothing. After all, what could he say?

"You are the Riddle freak's new friend, right," the boy asked disdainfully, pointing at Harry. "Would you look at that? The freak has found friends! Someone probably just as freaky as him!" He poked Harry on the shoulder. Harry was hard-pressed on not jumping up and clouting him on his pudgy face. However, his iron control held. He was not going to lose his temper. This had nothing to do with the fact that the fat boy was thrice his size and flanked by very mean looking goons.

"Did you know there was an introduction ceremony for freaks like you? Especially if you walk around with the likes of Riddle," said the boy derisively at Harry. "Look he doesn't," he declared to his friends in mock astonishment. "Let us show you, then. We wouldn't want you to get into trouble now, would we?" Before Harry could say anything, he caught Harry by the scruff of his neck and pulled him off balance. Next thing he knew, fists and feet began connecting with his torso, pummeling every inch of his skin. He tried to cover his head with his hand but his hands were ripped out of their protective gesture as blows continued to rain down upon him. He tried to roll with the punches, but he was held too tightly for it to be effective. Finally, a blow to his temple effectively made his eyes roll back into his head and while he was teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, he felt the hands release him and he fell down in a crumpled heap, unable to break his fall.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

He didn't know how long he lay there, but when he woke up, he felt like he was run over by a truck. Harry tried to get up slowly, and then decided that it was not a good idea as his head felt like it would blow itself up into tiny smithereens. After a few seconds of trying not to let his head fall off his neck, as it threatened to do, he decided that lying on the ground was much more comfortable as it seemed he would end up there anyway if he tried to stand up. The blow to his head was making him feel quite nauseous, so he lay down until his stomach felt like it wouldn't throw up its contents anytime soon.

After a few moments, when the ground in front of him stopped spinning, he slowly looked up to see a blurry blob coming near him.

"This is what I was talking about yesterday," said Tom's voice from somewhere above him. He tried to get his eyes to focus on the fuzzy image in front of him. Tom was on his knees next to him, trying to lift him up. "Can you stand up?" he asked, brows furrowing in what seemed like concern. But this was Tom, so Harry wasn't sure. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but it came out as a garbled mumble. He didn't know that Tom had 8 fingers on each hand! Or were they worms? They seemed to be…. wriggling. And why did Tom have two heads? Or was that a bludger? He blinked his eyes again. His brain was feeling very disconnected right now.

"Alright," replied Tom when he saw that there was no coherent answer coming from Harry. "You don't seem to be bleeding anywhere but your nose, so…" He draped Harry's arm around his neck and stood, pulling Harry up with him. The sudden motion made his head spin in dizzying circles again. When Tom stopped looking like he was a blurry blob, Harry looked around him once more. The four kids who had apparently homicidal tendencies towards him, were lying on the ground, unconscious. They did not seem hurt, but Harry instinctively knew that Tom was the one responsible for their state. As much as Harry wanted to reprimand Tom on his methods, he knew that it would be hypocritical, seeing that Tom had apparently saved him. And he didn't expect Tom to change overnight. He was sure that his habits would take quite long to disappear, but Harry was nothing if not determined.

"Richardson and his gang always like to welcome new kids their way," informed Tom. "They usually don't take it this far, though." He gave Harry a worried glance. "It's a good thing that I decided to get a drink of water too, or they would be still beating you up."

"Thanks," murmured Harry. Of course he had to get more beaten up than normal, didn't he? Was there anything that he could do that would, for once in a lifetime, be average? No, he and his infernal luck (good and bad) had to go and do everything in extremes.

He began limping off with Tom, his bruised ribs and aching torso, making his quite hard for him to walk. How was he going to go back to class looking this way?

"Do you think that Mr. Clarke would let me off for the rest of the day, if I asked him? If I told him what happened?" he asked Tom, hopefully. He wanted nothing better than to lie on a bed and rest his aching, bruised body. He didn't even know that he could hurt in so many places at once.

Tom shook his head. "No, Mr. Clarke doesn't really care what happens on the playground. Also, he is very stubborn and likes to get his way, so, he is not going to let you get a day off even if you are new. He likes to hear the sound of his voice too much."

"Really? He didn't seem so bad today…." Except for the name calling part at the beginning, Clarke seemed outright polite!

"Yeah, I was wondering that too. He seemed kind of distracted with something."

"Aren't there nurses? Of some kind? Any kind?" Harry was feeling desperate for something. What he wouldn't give for some pain relief potion….

"This is not a private school, Harry," said Tom, smiling at Harry condescendingly. "They are not even interested in _teaching_ orphans, so why would they willingly spend more money on us?"

Harry grimaced. The stupid school just had to be broke, didn't it? His face was still smarting from the blows but now, at least his nosebleed stopped. He was sure he still looked a horrendous sight with blood covering his face and bruises on his face. He just hoped that he didn't have a concussion. Just his luck that the only bullies (Richardson, wasn't it?) on the playground would head straight for him. It was like Harry hunting all over again, just thankfully this time, Tom had saved him. The only difference being that these kids were 6 years older than him in size and strength, unlike Dudley and his gang.

Harry was ashamed to admit that even being a 25 year old with Auror training he didn't see that coming. He should have been able to deflect at least some of the blows. But he decided to blame his pathetic reflexes on his small body. He wiped his glasses on his shirtsleeve. Thankfully, they fell off from his face before they could break, so they were fine. Harry would have been very irked if he had to tape them, considering that he was way too embarrassed to ask Tom to fix them again.

Tom led him to the small washroom at the back of the schoolroom, so that he could wash his face clean. For the rest of the day, he sat down gingerly trying to move as little as possible and trying to look inconspicuous so that he wouldn't get called upon to solve something on the board. Thankfully, Mr. Clarke was distracted with something and did not pick on him anymore, leaving his aching head in peace.

The next day passed the same way, except for the getting punched during recess part. Those kids seemed quite scared to come near him for some reason. Tom smiled dangerously every time, one of them so much as looked in their direction and Harry could see the flashes of fear on their faces each time. Ah well! They deserved it anyway. He was still sore from the last time's beating. He had no wish to relive it again. The gang leader, (Richardson was it?), was the only one who glared daggers at Harry when Tom was not looking. Harry made a mental note not to go walking out alone even in the orphanage because he was sure that Richardson had something nasty planned for him.

It was finally Saturday. The morning dawned bright and clear, a good day for outside activities. Harry was sure the children would be running around outside for the majority of the day, so no one would look for them, hopefully. Tom was already awake and reading a tome as big as himself. Harry didn't even want to know where he got them from. As soon as they finished breakfast, the kids were given a free reign for the rest of the day. Tom took out the card that they got from Cole.

"48 Buck Narrow Way, London," recited Tom.

"Do you know where that street is?' asked Harry.

Tom just gave him a look that questioned his sanity. "Of course, I do. I have memorized all the streets of London from the library maps. I always liked geography."

Harry shrugged. That was good because his own sense of direction was dismal. Hermione used to say that if he was shut in a circular room, he still wouldn't be able to find his way out.

So, when no seemed to be paying attention, they sneaked out the loose fence in the back. No one noticed their departure. No one…..except for one pair of bruised, fuming eyes.

**Ooooh! three guesses as to who that was!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you for all the amazing reviews! a 100 already!  
Don't be expecting the next chapter for another month. So, this is my longest yet chapter for all my wonderful readers and reviewers!**

**Chapter 16**

Walking on the streets was a new experience for Harry. Not the short walk from the orphanage to the school or the Church, but they were actually walking to the middle of London. Where the heart was.

Tom seemed to know where he was going, so Harry just followed without questioned. The streets were absolutely filthy, though. There was garbage and smog everywhere. Harry was certain that London in his time was half as polluted. Probably the small puffin automobiles were the cause of this. The people still wore the strange clothes, that Harry as much as he tried, could not get used to. After walking for nearly half-hour, Harry was feeling pretty confident. No one seemed to be looking at them, as if two young kids walking alone was a regular event. Harry was sure that they could safely make it to the not-doctor's office.

They stopped in front of a decrepit building. It's front windows were covered with grime and dirt. Peering in through the dirty glass, Harry could make out a desk behind which sat a woman who looked like she was in her thirties.

"This is it," declared Tom. He swung open the door and stepped in, Harry close behind. The woman looked up and smiled pleasantly.  
"How can I help you boys? Are you lost?" Her voice had a pleasing tenor and the skin around her eyes crinkled in a smile. She looked very nice.

"No, actually. You see, we are looking for Dr. Hughes. Is he here?" Harry gave the woman a charming smile that used to have fangirls fall around him by the score.

She didn't look fazed. She was probable immune to his good looks. A pity….

"No, he is not here today. He will only be back later tomorrow. Do you have a message for him?"

Harry scowled inwardly in disappointment. All this way for nothing? "No, nothing," he replied. He was still nervous about blurting out that they were wizards to a complete stranger.

He pulled Tom back with him, sure that he would find some other way to enter the Wizarding world. "Thank you," he called out. "We'll be going then."

"What are you doing?" whispered Tom. "Tell her we are wizards."

Harry shook his head. "We came to see Hughes. What if she is a Muggle?"

Tom gave him an incredulous look and before Harry could stop him, he twisted out of his grip and moved back to the desk.

"We are wizards," he cried out.

The woman froze, looking shocked. "What did you say?"

"We are wizards," carried on Tom, confidently. "We came to see Mr. Hughes."

"Oh, why didn't you say so, before," she said, looking relieved. "You look a little young to be wandering about. Where are your parents?" she eyed them suspiciously.

"We…..are lost, Miss," said Tom, his eyes downcast, looking the picture of dejection and inserting the perfect amount of hesitation in his voice to convey his fear. His acting skills were impressive. "I know Mr. Hughes and was hoping that he could take us back."

The woman's eyes softened in response. "Oh, you poor boys. I am sorry, though. Mr. Hughes is still not here today. Maybe you can come tomorrow?"

Harry nearly grunted in frustration. They said that they were lost and the women wanted them to come back tomorrow? Was she brain-dead?

Suddenly he had a wild idea. "To be quite honest, we would be really grateful if you could take us to the nearest Wizarding place. We could try to contact our parents from there."

Tom glanced at Harry and realized what he was doing. "Yes, if you could only tell us the direction of how to get to closest Wizarding area, I'm sure we can go the rest of the way by ourselves."

The woman dithered around a bit, "I'm not sure, boys, I am not really supposed to reveal…." She paused for a moment. "But you said you were wizards right? Both your parents too?" Both of them nodded vigorously not sure where this was going. "Then I guess that I can," she said, looking at the door to make sure that no one was there. "Come with me." She gestured at them to follow her inside. They stopped in front of a fireplace. She gave them a pot full of green powder. "You know what to do, right?" she asked. Both boys stared back at her silently. Tom, looking lost and Harry, trying his best to look lost.

She sighed, "You have to take the powder in your hand and throw it into the flames as you say the destination. Diagon Alley is the closest Wizarding village. Just remember to pronounce clearly and keep your arms close. Then ask the barkeeper to open the door for you."

Tom looked at Harry, confusion swimming in his eyes. The woman had explained it terribly. If Harry was new to this, he would be even more lost that before. Thankfully, he already knew what to do.

"I think I get it," he said, as he grabbed some floo powder from the pot that the woman was holding. He confidently strode into the unlit fireplace and threw the powder down, shouting, "Diagon Alley."

Unlike last time, he remembered to pronounce clearly, but despite his best efforts to stay upright, he tumbled out of the fireplace on the other side clumsily. He moved out of the way, as Tom came spinning in. He looked around to see that they were in the Leaky Cauldron. Considering that the entrance to Diagon Alley was here, this made sense. Tom stood up, dusting his clothes, his face screwing up in disgust as he looked around the shabby pub.

"This is the wizarding world?" he stated contemptuously. Harry was astonished at how easily he seemed to have taken to traveling by floo. He himself took some time to adjust properly. Still, Tom was Tom and thus, good at literally everything he did (something that depressed Harry greatly).

"We have to ask the barkeeper to open the door for us?" continued Tom in bewilderment. "What door? I see none other than the one that leads to London."

"We will just have to ask and see," replied Harry, dragging Tom over to a much, much younger looking Tom the barkeeper. He even had an entire set of teeth!

"Excuse me sir," he asked politely. "We were hoping to go to Diagon Alley but we don't know how to open the door."

Barman Tom peered over the counter at them, curiously. "You are a little young to be travelling around, aren't you?" He stared at them for a few more minutes, and then huffed. "Follow me." He went around to the back of the pub, near the brick wall that concealed Digon Alley. Tom Riddle's face just grew more and more disgusted as he saw Older Tom going to where the garbage cans were kept. "The Wizards live in a dump?" he bit out in revulsion. Harry kept quiet, saying neither 'aye' or 'nay'. He was supposed to be new to this.

Tom, the barkeeper took out his wand and tapped a few bricks on the wall causing it to fold into itself as an archway opened. Harry's lips twitched as he saw Tom's dumbfounded expression. He tried his best to make his face look the same way. It wasn't too hard. Diagon Alley was teeming with witches and wizards of all shapes and sizes as they went about their daily lives. The place never ceased to astonish Harry, no matter how many times he saw it. They both ventured in, thanking the young barkeeper who waved it away airily.

Tom just looked to and fro the different stores and shops, reading the strange signs like 'Get your frog livers while they're fresh!' and 'Cleansweeps for sale! Cheaper than any other broomstick in the world!'

Harry tried his best to guide Tom down the safe path, trying not to go near Knockturn Alley. He was certain that if Tom saw Knockturn Alley, he would want to explore it. Tom had a strange sense of entertainment.

When they passed the bookstore, Tom stood stock-still, looking on in awe. He grabbed Harry and dragged him in before he could say anything. The variety of books that surrounded Tom rendered him silent. He rushed towards the nearest shelf and grabbed a large tome and began reading without giving any thought to anything else around them. Certain that Tom wouldn't be moving anytime soon, Harry used that time to look around _Flourish and Blotts_ of the 30's. It didn't look all that different from the one in his own time. Seeing Tom glued to the books, he decided that now was a good time to try and get his wand. He just tapped Tom on the shoulder and indicated that he was going outside. Tom just hummed in response, too deep inside the book. Harry stepped outside and began walking to the wand-store, his feet taking the well-known route easily. He wasn't sure how to pay for the wand, but he hoped that he could pass for an undersized eleven year old, getting his first wand. Maybe he could make an excuse saying that he didn't have any money now, but he would pay later. Harry had no intention of stealing from Ollivander, creepy as that man was. He would pay later, just not anytime soon, but Ollivander need not know that.

He walked into the store, the small bell ringing as he entered. The store was as dusty and forlorn as he remembered with shelved piled high with boxes. The creak of a ladder startled him.

"Ah, I wondered when I would be seeing you, Mr. Potter." He turned around, shocked, to see Mr. Ollivander staring right at him. His mouth opened a few times before he could unscramble his thoughts. Did he just call his Potter? Harry had hoped that he would not have a huge resemblance to the Potter family, but considering this, maybe Ollivander might have mistaken his for his grandfather who was probably around his age right now. A strange thought, that.

"I think you have the wrong person, sir," he countered politely. "My name is not Potter, sir."

"I don't think so Mr. Potter," replied Ollivander, his creepy white eyes lighting up in response. "I think that you are someone who is very far from home. Aren't you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry was shocked. This man knew that he wasn't from this time? How? He took a step back defensively. "Who are you?"

Ollivander smiled creepily again. "I don't think that is the question you wish to ask, Mr. Potter. Rather, another one. You have come here in search of a wand?" He turned back to his shelves and retrieved a small box. A very familiar small box. It was the one that contained his wand. Ollivander held it out to him. Harry slowly extended his hand out to take it, not trusting this man, or creature, whatever he was. All doubts fled as he touched his wand. The feeling of belonging flooded through his being. A soft warmth spread throughout his body. He had his wand back again.

"I hope it is to your liking, Mr. 'Wood'. That is your name now, isn't it?"

"How do you know this?" asked Harry, feeling a little lost. Ollivander not only knew that he was not from this time, but even knew the cover name that he had given? "Who are you?" he asked again. He was feeling a tad scared, not that he would ever admit it. "What do you want?"

"The question is, Mr. Potter, What do you want? And you already know who I am. Oh, and one more thing. It will show itself at the right time." Harry blinked. What will show itself at the right time? Ollivander smiled and the next thing he knew, he was standing outside the store without having moved and inch. He stood there staring at the store front, dazed.

A man passed by him. "The store is closed," he pointed out. "You will have to come back later to get your wand, kid." Sure enough, the store had the sign, 'Closed for Lunch' on its front door. Weirder. That wasn't there when he went in, was there? He looked down at his hand to realize his fist was clenched over air. Nothing but air. There was no wand. Did it really happen, or did he just hallucinate it all?

He twisted around and headed back to the bookshop, pondering over what just happened. Ollivander knew who he really was. He had given him a wand, which disappeared. Ollivander probably knew about Tom Riddle and what he was trying to do, that is change history. Heck, he was sure that Ollivander probably knew his cover story back to front considering he knew that new surname Harry had given himself. This was worrying as well as mystifying. Did that mean that Ollivander was the one that bought him here, to this time? Did that mean that he was meant to end up in the orphanage? Was Ollivander even human? Or was this entire episode just a bad case of sleepless nights?

He was startled from his reverie when he saw that he was standing in front of the bookstore. He went in to see that Tom was at the same position that he had left him in, reading another book.

Harry wandered around the bookstore a bit more, until it began to get really dark outside. When did it get so dark? Where did the time go? The orphanage would probably have realized that they were both missing by now. They had to go now.

"Tom, lets go," he emphasized, grabbing Tom by his arm and dragging him away.

Tom yelped as he almost lost his balance. "What do you think that you are doing?"

"We have to go now. We'll be late. Come on."

Tom glared at Harry and acquiesced reluctantly. "We'll come back, soon," he stated.

Both of them walked quickly towards Leaky Cauldron. As they entered, nobody even looked at them twice. They headed straight for the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo powder. Before Harry could say the name of the place, Tom suddenly broke into a run and headed for the door. After looking outside into the street, he came back. "Just checking which street is located, so we can find it without using fireplaces," he clarified. Harry mentally thought that was a good idea. Calling the name of Hughes' Office, both of them stepped into the green flames and disappeared.

The small room where the fireplace was situated was empty, thankfully. They didn't want to have to explain to the lady what they were doing back here. There was another exit towards the back of the room, so they got out that way. As they made their way back to the orphanage, Harry trying to hurry, while Tom waxed poetic about the amazing things that he read in the book about the magical world, (The book was Hogwarts: a History, much to Harry's shock). However, as they reached the orphanage, they could see a commotion in the front yard. Slowly they made their way to the yard, hoping that they could slip in through the hubbub. As they neared, one of the girls, the one with blond braids, pointed at them and shouted, "There they are!"

Both Harry and Tom jumped, Harry cursing the girl. They could have easily gotten in. To their discouragement, Ms. Robertson started towards them, looking like a cat that cornered an injured mouse. An evil, grinning, malicious cat.

"So, you thought that you wouldn't get caught, did you?"

They remained silent, Tom throwing Robertson a vicious look. Harry just hoped that they could just wriggle out of whatever trouble they got into.

"I told you that you would get into trouble, didn't I? Now you are in for it. You better start saying goodbye. You won't be here for long."

Harry and Tom exchanged an astounded look. Was she going to kick them out because they skived off one day?

Cole came up to them. "I'm sorry boys, I thought that young Harry would be a better influence on Tom. However, I was wrong. You have both disappointed me. I would never have thought of you as thieves."

"Thieves?" gulped Harry.

"Yes, I was missing 150 pounds from my purse a few days ago."

Harry stole a quick glance at Tom. He could see a blank face replacing his demeanor but Harry knew Tom enough to see the astonishment in his eyes. It wasn't him that had stolen the money. It wasn't Tom's method of stealing anyway. Everything that Tom stole had some significant value to him. Trophies. The money had no value for him.

"I was hoping that the perpetrator would turn themselves in, if I just gave them a few days to repent their mistake," continued Ms. Cole. "But no one came. Then Ms. Robertson told me that she found a pair of glasses belonging to you, young Harry, in my room. And-"

"And don't you find that just odd?" cut in Robertson, looking positively gleeful. "I knew that you two were up to no good that day," she continued. "We searched your room and found nearly 100 pounds in there."

Tom face went slack with astonishment, while Harry's brain worked at lightning speed trying to make sense of how this could have happened. This was too much of a coincidence to be true. Seriously. Who had such infernal bad luck that their glasses got found out by the worst person possible and now was incriminating evidence for a crime that they did not commit.

"I swear, Ms. Cole," started Harry. "We did not steal the money."

"Then how did half of it come to be in your room? And where were you today, than to spend some of it?" intervened Robertson. "That is why both you brats ran off, wasn't it? Thought that no one would notice? Lucky that we have responsible children like Richardson, who warned us that you two had gone missing."

She gestured to the smugly smiling boy behind her. Harry's blood began to boil slowly. He was the school bully. The one who had beat him up. The one that Tom had somehow overpowered and knocked unconscious. The one who had probably swore revenge on both of them for humiliating him so. The pieces fell into place suddenly. Harry was certain that Richardson was the one to have stolen the money and tried to frame them. The self-satisfied smile on his face spoke volumes. But before Harry could do something stupid, like strangle Richardson, Cole spoke.

"I am sorry boys, but if it was something that had happened just once, I would have let it slide," she began. "But other children in the orphanage have been also complaining. They claim that you have stolen things from them, and threatened them if they ever told anyone, Tom. Also, Ms. Robertson has alerted me of despicable behavior on your part, Harry. This sort of behavior is not acceptable, and I am sorry to say, but the police will have to be involved in this, now."

"There is no place in this orphanage for thieves and crooks," cut in Robertson harshly. "We have tried our best with you, but clearly it was not enough. The Bobbies know what to do with brats like you. Maybe spending some time doing some hard work will teach you. Now, go to you rooms and await the police."

Both Harry and Tom exchanged a silent look, knowing that there was no use replying back. They wouldn't believe them anyway. They reached an unvoiced agreement to talk once they reached the confines of their rooms. They were in the worst possible situation that they could be in.

What an awful ending to such a wonderful day.

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	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"I did not steal it," declared Tom fervently, as soon as Robertson had shut and locked the door of their room from outside.

"I know, Tom," replied Harry, trying to get his heartbeat down. He was beginning to panic. Breath in, Breath out, In….. out….. in…..out….."I also have a good idea who did. It was that Richardson. I saw that prat smirking at me."

"Of course," breathed Tom. "He has always hated me, and now that he got beaten up by me, he wished to lash out in any way he can."

"And he promptly framed us for this robbery," finished Harry. "And we can do nothing about it. All the evidence is against us. No one is going to believe that the glasses were someone else's. Last time was just fluke, but now, Cole will believe Robertson above us. And we cannot tell them where we went today because they would, again, never believe us."

"I have no intention of going to prison," stated Tom firmly. "There is no way that I am going to let those oaf-like Muggles push me around. I never have and I am not going to start it now."

Harry nodded fervently. He had no intention of being caught by Muggle police either. He did not know what they did to minors during the 30's.

"If we stay here, Robertson will bring the bobbies here. We have to escape. Get out of here before they come."

"We have nowhere to go," countered Harry. He still wasn't sure if he hadn't dreamed the episode with Ollivander. He definitely did not have his wand on him anywhere, so he was still bereft of a good way to defend himself if they left the orphanage.

"I'm sure that anywhere is better than here. We can run away to Diagon Alley. I'm sure they would help us." continued Tom, excitedly.

"What if they don't?" countered Harry. He was not sure about how people now would react to two orphaned, supposedly muggle-born children asking them for help. Also, knowing that they did not have money brought in the problem of how were they going to feed themselves. Unless they took to begging on the streets, but Harry had no intention of doing that.

"We _have_ to try," emphasized Tom. "We cannot just wait here for the bobbies to catch us. I have seen how they treat kids on the streets. I don't want to be like them." As Tom said that, his eyes took on a haunted quality, as if he were wishing to forget whatever he had seen. Harry could only imagine how muggles would behave towards homeless people. But to be honest, Harry was scared. He had never run away from something. Even at the Dursleys, when they treated him worse than a slave, he still continued to suffer through it. To run away and never come back was a new concept for him. But he was a Griffyndor, wasn't he? So he decided. "Okay, we will get out of here and head to Diagon Alley. Hopefully we will find someone there that can help us." Truthfully, Harry wanted to go back Ollivander's again, to make sure if he had dreamed it or not. Living on the streets was not something he looked forward to, though. If he had a tent, like when they were on the run during his seventh year, then maybe it would be much easier, but they did not even have any money. He decided to that Tom and him would cross the bridge when they came to it. A snide voice whispered in his head, sounding a lot like Snape, _You are nothing but a foolish and reckless brat._ Harry had to admit the voice was right, but he was running out of options right now. So, heck with it.

Tom had gotten up and began stuffing all their clothing and things that they owned into their school bags. Harry helped until the room was empty of their meager belongings. Harry opened the window and jumped out. The jolt was uncomfortable but easily ignored. Tom, on the other hand, seemed to float like a bubble to the ground, his feet making no sound. As soon as he touched the ground, he gave Harry a smug smile, as Harry tried to crush his feelings of jealousy. He was a grown man, mentally. He should _not_ be jealous of a 9 year old boy, no matter if that boy was able to control his magic. After the incident with the cupboard, Harry had decided that it was safer for everyone if he curbed his use.

Thankfully there was no one outside as they ran to the back gate. As they neared it, Tom bent down near a bush and whispered something to it, hissing. The bush hissed back. That was when Harry realized that there was a snake in the bush and Tom was talking Parseltongue to it. As soon as he realized it, he understood what Tom was saying to it.

_Make sure to do it at night. The room is the last one on the second floor of the building. It's near a big flower vase. _What was Tom even talking about? Whose room was that?

And this should not be possible, his ability to understand Parsletongue dissolved with the Horcrux. Did this mean that he had the horcrux inside of him?

The snake replied, _Yes, Masssteer…._

Ah, this must be where Tom got the idea that everyone should call him master. Snakes….he always distrusted them. Now he understood that they were one of the main causes in boosting Voldemort's gigantic ego. As soon as he tuned out, the conversations dissolved back into incomprehensible hisses. What was happening? Did he understand Parsletongue or not?

Tom stood and watched as the snake slithered away.

"Whose room were you talking about?" asked Harry, to make sure that he had not hallucinated the hisses.

Tom's eyes grew big and round. "You understood?"

Harry nodded mutely. Tom narrowed his eyes and exhaled heavily. "We will talk about this later. Now we need to get out of here."

He grabbed Harry's hand and both of them ran. "You didn't answer my question. Whose room are you talking about?"

"Richardson's. I just left him a little present for his kind actions towards us."

Harry said nothing. What could he say, when those were the exact thoughts running through his head?

They kept on running, getting out of the compound before anyone saw them.

Harry looked behind one last time at the decrepit building. He couldn't say that he would miss it but it was a place where you could eat and sleep. Now he had Tom, and they would find a way to survive, enough if it meant going back to creepy Ollivanders.

_Well, I guess then this is it_, Harry thought as he looked back at the orphanage. _Its goodbye for now…_

**The End of Part 1**

**Yes...They have run away from Wool's Orphanage, out to the real world...**

**Sequel will be uploaded soon! Wait for it!**


	18. Chapter 18

**The SEQUEL is UP! At last! Hope you take a look after this one. It's called something very, incredibly, enticingly, original: ****_The sequel to Welcome to Wool's Orphanage. _****Well, if you don't believe me, go see it for yourself!**


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